


Seven Years

by sunshine (sunshinepiveh)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Breathplay, Bubble Bath, Chastity Device, Dildos, Dom/sub, Enemas, Forced Orgasm, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Impotence, Kink Meme, Knotting, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Mind Meld, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Panties, Pon Farr, Post Orgasm Torture, Prostate Milking, Scent Kink, Sex Swing, Shower Sex, Sounding, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Temperature Play, Urination, Vibrators, Violet Wand, Voyeurism, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 98,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5233799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinepiveh/pseuds/sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Premise: Vulcans mate every seven Vulcan years, and are essentially impotent in between. Spock wants to date Jim, and Jim's willing to see if this thing can work. That isn't to say there won't be sex. There will be lots of it.</p><p>Essentially a creative porn without plot story, unless the plot revolves around porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Beginning

“You want to date me.” Jim said, not believing what he'd heard. He looked at Spock in stunned silence across the chess board in the captains quarters.

“Affirmative.”

He looked at Spock suspiciously, looking for the angle. He'd wanted Spock for like... well forever. Ever since Spock was snootily accusing him of cheating on that damned test, even. But this, well, this was kind of out of the blue. He let out a long breath, seemingly at a loss for words. “I gotta admit, this is kind of unexpected, Spock. I'm not saying I don't want to -- I mean, want to, believe me, but you never... This is the first I'm hearing about this.”

“You are aware that I was previously engaged in a romantic arrangement with Lieutenant Uhura.” he began.

“Riiight.” Jim said slowly. “And Vulcans are big into the whole monogamy thing. But you broke up with her months ago, and this is still the first clue I'm getting that you were into me.”

Spock paused for a moment, considering his response. “You are, of course, correct.” he said quietly. “The circumstances which surrounded my previous failed partnership gave me cause to consider that perhaps dating another human would be unwise. However, I have since regained my confidence that I am up to the challenge, and that perhaps my future shortcomings were presumed, and not confirmed.”

Jim took a moment to try and wade through the word soup Spock had just fed him. “You thought you couldn't date humans.” he picked out.

“Correct.”

“And then you thought... what... that something wasn't your fault?”

“Essentially.”

“What exactly?”

“Pardon?”

“What's the thing that you guys broke up over that you don't think's fair?”

Spock had hoped not to have to be so direct about a previous partnership, as he could not really secure Uhura's consent to speak about something so private. However, it was only fair that his future romantic interests know of his past. “Sex.” he said simply.

Jim blinked. “Oookayy. So that answers like nothing. Do you have some weird tentacle dick or something?”

Spock's eyes widened at the very idea. “Negative.”

“Then what?”

He was beginning to see he was going to have to spell it out. Well, best to get this over with quickly, so as to not waste either of their time. “Vulcans mate according to a seven year cycle.” he began.

“Right. Pon farr. Wait, did you go into pon farr?” he asked wildly. “Are you in it now?”

“How do you know about pon farr?” he asked in irritation.

“Old Spock.” Jim waved frustratedly for him to continue and answer the damned question.

“I am not undergoing pon farr.” he said with some irritation.

“Then what's the deal?” Jim whined in exasperation.

“That is what I am attempting to explain.” Spock gave a pointed glare. “We mate every seven Vulcan years, which is between three and four Terran years. Nyota, however, was not initially aware of this fact. She was less than pleased with the news.”

Jim stared, not getting it. “Why not?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“She wished to copulate more immediately.”

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait.” Jim waved his hands in a flurry of motion. “You mean you don't have sex at all outside of pon farr?” he asked incredulously.

“Define sex.” Spock evaded.

Jim narrowed his eyes. “You don't put your erect dick inside of something.”

Spock pursed his lips at the unnecessarily crude language. “Correct.”

“Well damn.” Jim huffed and deflated a bit, running his fingers through his hair as he took that piece of information in. “And you want to date me?”

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“Well... yeah? Kind of? Jesus, Spock, you don't do things the easy way, do you?” he complained. “I'm practically madly in love with you here but I'm not a goddamned saint or anything. I'm a human male. I need to have sex more than once every seven years.”

“Technically, it is between three and four years, and we would have sex more than once --”

“You know what I'm saying here.”

“Yes. However, Nyota did not give me sufficient chance to please her.”

“I really don't need to know about your failed attempts.” Jim said closing his eyes.

“There were no attempts.”

“What?”

“I do not expect you to be sexually inactive.”

“But you said -- I thought Vulcans don't share.”

“We do not.”

“Then --”

“Jim. I am not an unwilling partner.”

Jim stared at him, and when it clicked a wave of arousal hit him, along with a wave of intense awkwardness. “You want me to fuck you while you're not even hard?”

“That is one of many things we could attempt.”

“What else?” Jim asked in spite of himself. He had to know where this was going.

“Fingers, toys, oral sex, fisting --” he began to list off monotonously, completely straight faced.

“Fisting?!”

“If you are amenable.”

Jim almost choked. “Whose fist?”

“Mine, of course.”

Jim stared at him. And stared. Spock was beginning to become concerned. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Not to the fisting. To the dating. Maybe the fisting.”

Spock raised a brow.

“Just like not... not like right now. Ask me later.”

“Very well. Then I can consider us exclusive beginning now?”

Jim licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“I am pleased.” he smiled with his eyes, offering his two fingers in a Vulcan kiss that Jim met, sending delightful sparks of pleasure where their fingers joined.

“Me too.” Jim said, and was surprised how much he meant it. But what the hell had he just gotten himself into?


	2. Touch Your Self

Dating Spock was awesome, and Jim was absolutely giddy with it for the first whole week. He tried not to think about the sex thing too much and jerked off in the shower whenever the urge hit him, which was typically once a day, after he woke up.

They spent all their time together now, it seemed, and Jim was on cloud nine. He could touch Spock as much as he wanted, and he found himself doing so all the time. It was the little things that thrilled him, being able to just touch him on the arm, or the shoulder, the back, his face... okay, so Jim was a bit of an octopus. And Spock, the reticent Vulcan, seemed not to mind in the slightest. Jim was practically ecstatic. And not only was there touching, but there was talking, intimate, closer-than-friends talking. And Spock had even melded with him once.

It was about halfway through the second week that Jim had kissed him. That is, that he had human-style kissed him, full on the mouth, probing tongue and all. And Spock had gone along with it, and it was actually pretty good. Jim was getting into it, before he could really stop himself and think about it. And then he was really getting into it, and he was hot and flushed and bothered, and his hand instinctively made its way up Spock's thigh to reach -- nothing. He pulled away with a grimace and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Is something amiss?” Spock queried.

“Yes? No? Kind of? I don't know, Spock. You're not...”

“Aroused?” Spock supplied.

“Yeah, that. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“I was not having an unpleasant time.” he said, turning Jim's chin up so he would meet his eyes.

“Yeah?” Jim asked uncertainly.

“I have told you I do not expect you to be celibate. And I can feel your arousal, Jim. It is very... stimulating.”

Jim's tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Okay.”

Spock leaned in to kiss Jim once again, and Jim met him, at first hesitantly, then with building passion as before. This time it was Spock's hand that came out to graze the growing bulge in Jim's pants, which Jim allowed for a time, his breath coming hot and heavy as his cock strained to break free of the confines of his tight pants. Spock quite agreed with that idea, and began to open Jim's fly, pulling him free to stroke him as Jim gave a low moan.

But Jim didn't know where to put his hands. He'd always reciprocated. That was half of the joy of sex. He wanted to touch Spock, too, but knew that Spock would not be aroused if he checked. It was maddening, and awkward, and he didn't know how to feel.

“Spock.” he said breathlessly.

“Yes Jim.” Spock answered between kisses, all the while stroking Jim in a slow, steady rhythm.

“You don't -- you don't have to do that.” he managed. “It's... I feel like I'm using you.”

Spock smirked bemusedly. “And this is a problem for you?” he asked

And damn if that didn't make his cock jerk just a little too. The idea of using Spock.... It was as arousing as it was discomfiting. “N-no? Maybe.” he stuttered.

“Very well.” Spock released him.

And everything in Jim cried out for Spock to NOT stop what he'd been doing. He wondered why the hell he'd opened his big mouth, but Spock continued.

“Then you touch yourself.”

“W-what?”

“Touch. Your. Self.” Spock pronounced deliberately, staring him in the eyes.

Jim swallowed thickly and wrapped his hand around his cock.

“Good boy.” Spock whispered lowly, and Jim shivered. “Now I wish for you to stroke yourself to completion, while I watch.”

“That... that is really much hotter than it has any right to be.” Jim argued, but of course is stroked himself as he was told. How could he not? He almost wanted to come just from listening to the filth coming out of Spock's mouth. And the domly Vulcan thing? Yeah, that was unforseeably hot too. While Jim wasn't exactly vanilla, he also hadn't delved too deeply into BDSM by any means, and he hadn't honestly given too much thought to power games like this. And suddenly the fact that Spock was having him do this to himself, and that he wasn't even aroused seeing it... was not at all offputting, but made the scenario feel unbelievably hotter.

Spock reached his hand up and under Jim's shirt to toy with his nipples, his eyes riveted to what Jim did to himself. Jim, for his part, was drowning in sensation and a heady mess of incoherent thought. He did not last long until with a stifled whimper, he came into his hand, opening his closed eyes to stare up at his Vulcan, who hadn't missed a second. He shivered then, feeling deliciously exposed, and his mouth fell open with shock and new arousal as Spock trailed a finger through the expelled cum and brought it to his own mouth to taste.

“God damn, Spock.” Jim breathed.

“Am I to understand that our first sexual encounter was satisfactory?” he inquired.

“Uh, yeah.” Jim said dumbly, still fuzzy from his orgasm and the things Spock was doing to him.

“Good.” Spock smirked. Perhaps this arrangement would work out after all.


	3. Shower Time

Of course, as awesome as the weird sex game with Spock had been, the following morning Jim still jacked himself off in the shower. His usual masturbatory session was even more thrilling than usual, because he had such an overpowering memory to spur him on. But the question was how to get it to happen again. After all, he couldn't very well ask Spock to make him touch himself. Or he could, but it would feel weird, and would sort of ruin the mood. It wasn't really Spock asking if he had to ask him to ask him. Jim knew what he meant.

And so, the next week or so passed in silence. Not total silence, of course. They talked, they played chess, they hung out, they watched vids, they ate all their meals together. And of course they were on the bridge together, and even went on an impressively benign landing party together. It was great. But Jim was horny, and getting restless. Not that he was about to say anything. There just never seemed to be a good time, or a good way to segue into it.

It was actually Spock who provoked the next encounter, much to Jim's delight, but also shock. Jim was taking care of himself in the shower as he readied himself for the day when Spock abruptly let himself into their shared bathroom, for the first time opting to share the space simultaneously. After all, they were dating, and he could see no reason to maintain the same level of privacy as before. He would simply brush his teeth while Jim showered and make a more efficient use of time and space. That had been Spock's actual motivation when he stepped into the bathroom, and saw exactly what his Jim was doing. For a moment, he simply stood there and observed, a bit surprised and utterly fascinated to see it.

Of course, he only had that brief moment to observe, because as soon as Jim realized he wasn’t alone, he fumbled and stopped what he was doing, making a choked sound. “Jesus, Spock, you startled me.”

“I can see that. Would you care to resume?”

“Er, uhm....” He'd gone half soft from the shock, honestly, but he as perking up again at the idea of Spock watching him again, like last time.

“Is this your regular habit?” Spock inquired, peeling off his night shirt. He had planned to take his shower after Jim had finished his, but plans could be changed.

Jim's eyes were riveted to his quickly undressing boyfriend. He'd actually never seen Spock nude before, and he was more than curious about it now. He was so fixated that he nearly missed the question. “What? Oh, yeah. Normally.” His tongue flicked over his bottom lip nervously. “Why?”

“It is unnecessary.” Spock said, dropping his briefs as he stepped into the shower stall, into the cascade of slightly chilly water for his tastes.

Jim huffed a laugh. “Believe me, Spock, it's kind of necessary.”

Spock's hand curled around Jim's cock and Jim practically melted at the touch. His eyes closed as he hissed a breath, sagging against the shower wall and putting all his concentration on not falling and giving them both a concussion. “Forgive me, then.” Spock said simply. “For I have clearly been neglecting the needs of my mate. I was unaware you would require stimulation on a daily basis. I will of course remedy this oversight in the future.”

“Remedy... what?” Jim asked hazily as Spock's hand sped up on his oversensitized flesh. The fact that Spock wasn't even hard was totally lost on him in this moment. He was being amazing.

“It is my desire to take care of my human.” Spock said simply, pulling Jim to rest his back against Spock's chest, his head thrown back onto Spock's shoulder. He wouldn't let Jim fall -- all Jim had to do was relax into the touch, the maddeningly arousing touch. Spock pressed a kiss to the side of his temple. “Just relax, my Jim, I will take care of you.”

“God I love you, Spock.” Jim admitted breathlessly, and it was short minutes until he moaned his release. He panted against Spock as Spock continued to gently milk out the last drops and Jim tried to compose himself. “You're fucking amazing.”

“I find I am quite fond of you myself.” Spock admitted with half a smile, releasing Jim in order to clean himself for the day.

Jim followed suit, and though he'd had a spectacular orgasm to start his day, he stayed half hard throughout most of it as he mulled over this new promise of Spock “taking care” of him every day.


	4. Prostate

Jim was particularly excitable when they finally got off of bridge shift and returned to his room. “Get naked.” he urged, shoving Spock toward the bed. After that morning's events, he couldn't believe he'd been dating Spock this long and still hadn't seen him naked until that morning. This had to be remedied ASAP. Spock smiled wryly at his enthusiasm.

“Very well.” he said, disrobing with casual grace and sprawling out along the bed, propped up at the headboard. He quirked a brow as Jim also unclothed himself, and was curious where this would go. Did Jim want to fuck him?

But Jim simply crouched down on the bed and stared at Spock's genitalia with rapt fascination. “Explain it.” he coaxed.

“They are genitals.” Spock said dryly.

“Well I know that.” Jim rolled his eyes.

Spock knew what Jim was getting at and relented in his teasing. His mate wanted to understand their anatomical differences, and it was only fair, he supposed. “My penis, when not erect, is almost fully retracted internally, inside of the genital pouch, which you can see the opening to here.” he gestured at the long slit, much further front than on a female, and with a bit of the head of his cock peeking out.

“It's damp.” Jim remarked curiously, gently probing the opening.

Spock nodded and gave a little gasp as Jim explored. “Under mating circumstances, it is self lubricating.” He watched with wonder as Jim's tongue darted out to his moist finger to taste some of the secretions, but could tell nothing of what he thought of the taste from his pensive expression.

“And testicles?”

“They are also internal.” Spock explained, and taking one of Jim's hands, moved it around to his lower back to just the slightest raised flesh. “Here. They are called chenesi, and they will swell with ejaculate during pon farr.”

“Do you have a prostate, then?”

“Affirmative. It can be accessed through the anus, just as for a human male.”

“Have you touched it?” Jim queried.

“Negative. I have had no reason to.” he answered bemusedly.

“Hmm. And you pee standing up?”

“Indeed.” Spock was downright amused now as Jim positively studied him. “Is this leading somewhere?” he asked.

“Just want to know what I'm working with.”

“I had assumed that perhaps you wished to engage in coitus.” Spock clarified.

Jim snickered a bit at the word coitus, because he was a grown five year old. “But you wouldn't like it.”

“I may enjoy it.” Spock shrugged slightly. “I have no basis to form an opinion on.”

Jim stopped his awkward prodding of Spock's quiescent cock and looked uncertain. It's not that he didn't find Spock to be utterly, devastatingly attractive. But he was just... laying there. Unaroused. Could he thrust into that and even hope to maintain his hardon?

“Unless you are afraid, of course.” Spock amended, goading him.

“Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Mister.” Jim pointed a finger at him, scowling. But his eyes flicked to his bedside table where he kept lube in spite of himself. “Fine, but if you don't like it, we stop. If I don't like it, we stop.”

“I would expect nothing less, t'hy'la.” Spock answered softly. He remained relaxed and pliant under Jim as Jim carefully lubed one finger and pressed gently at his anus.

“Does that hurt?”

“Negative.”

Emboldened, Jim pressed firmly inward, moving gently and feeling utterly weird about this. He'd prepared lovers for anal intercourse before, of course, but this was definitely... different. Almost clinical, as Spock lay there relaxed and soft, eyes watching curiously. He added a second finger after a time, and probed around until he found what he thought was Spock's prostate. When Spock gave a little huff of breath, he was sure he'd found it.

“Fascinating.” Spock said, processing the strange new sensation.

“Good?” Jim asked cheekily.

But Spock had to mull it over a bit. “It is not unpleasant.”

“Not unpleasant?” Jim stalled. “Jeeze, Spock.” He rubbed firmly against the spot again.

Spock out out a little grunt, but that was all. “I do not have a sufficient high level of hormones to turn this into a fully sexual experience,” Spock explained calmly. “But there are still sensitive nerve endings, and it is a somewhat enjoyable sensation.”

Jim sighed and removed his fingers.

“Have I said something wrong?”

And now Jim felt like a dick. “No... not, not really. It's just... weird, Spock. I touch your prostate and get nothing?”

“What is it like when yours is touched?” Spock questioned.

Jim let out an awkward half-laugh. “Not like that.” he said simply, wiping his fingers off in the sheets.

“Will you permit me to find out first-hand?” He sat up, no longer laying pliant.

“Uhm.” Jim said awkwardly, turning a bit red and rubbing the back of his neck. This was definitely not mood setting, more like a fascinating science experiment, but then, this was Spock, so he guessed that made sense. “Sure. Why not?” He traded places with his lover and spread himself willingly. He was only about a third hard after all of that, so not totally in the mood, but he suspected that would change once Spock's nimble fingers got inside of him. That prospect alone was exciting enough to dispel most of the awkwardness of the situation.

A quick student, Spock carefully lubricated one finger and pressed himself gently but firmly inside, giving Jim a chance to adjust before moving, stretching. Unlike Spock, Jim was very responsive. He gasped, he whimpered, his breathing deepened, stuttered. He whined and moaned and wriggled and tensed and relaxed, all while Spock stretched him open, allowing for two fingers now scissoring in and out. Curiously, he probed the prostate that he'd up to now only brushed beside.

Jim let out a shout and bucked onto his fingers. “Fuck!” He hyperventilated slightly. “Do it again.” he licked his bottom lip excitedly.

Spock was all too happy to oblige, and Jim saw stars. It was... fascinating. And Spock was mesmerized by the sight before him, and by the accompanying emotions that transferred easily through the skin to skin. It was intoxicating. “Can you come from such stimulation alone?” he wondered.

“Jesus, Spock.” Jim huffed, bucking back wantonly. “Maybe? I don't -- augh!” He gave up on the ability to form coherent sentences and just rode out the overwhelming sensations Spock induced in him. For someone with no sexual history, Spock sure was a fast learner. But then, he was a genius.

After several minutes of Spock's ongoing ministrations, Jim's hand shot down instinctively to grip his cock, but Spock was having none of it. “Ah ah!” he warned, and Jim looked at him a long moment to figure out what he was on about.

“Seriously?” he asked as he remembered Spock's curious question.

“Hands off.” Spock said in that totally composed tone of voice he had. It was maddening, but Jim forced himself to let go and gripped the sheets instead, gritting his teeth and whimpering.

Spock was interested to find that Jim did not come nearly as quickly by anal stimulation alone as he had from stimulation of his cock, both times that Spock had as data points. But of course, that didn't mean he didn't come this time. In fact, he came spectacularly, with possibly his loudest vocalizations to date. It was very satisfactory, and he couldn't wait to find out another time what dual stimulation might reduce Jim to. Having a human mate was going to be fun.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked unnecessarily.

“You're going to kill me.” Jim answered breathlessly, staring at the ceiling and too spent to move just yet, cum drying on his stomach.

Spock would not admit to smugness, but that did not keep the smug look off his face. And Jim, on his part, was pretty sure he was falling even more in love. He was starting to think this thing might actually work out.


	5. Post Orgasm Torture

Jim had heard Spock the day before, but he hadn't really expected Spock to join him in the shower again. He should have known better. And while the whole “taking care” thing was hot and spur of the moment the first time, now it was weirdly embarrassing. But then, that kind of got him going in a whole new way. And it continued in this way, day after day. Spock would hold him close in the shower, Jim helpless as he jacked him off, whispering sweet Vulcan nothings about taking care of his mate. Jim cringed over it, and absolutely loved it.

And so for days, he didn't know whether he was coming or going. He got hard just thinking about the shower thing, and he was also absolutely mortified by it. He kept meaning to have a talk with Spock about it, but it just seemed to never come up. Partially because Jim was a coward, and partially because he was confused as hell. And when he'd decided to get into a romantic relationship with a largely asexual Vulcan, he'd known it would be hard and at times weird, but he'd never thought for a second that his own sexuality would come into question. Now he wasn't sure what he wanted. But something about strong arms holding him up and a soft voice murmuring to him in that way just made him melt.

Of course, Jim could avoid the topic all he wanted, but Spock was observant and was one to ask questions. That was why tonight, over chess, he remarked “You have been tense lately.”

“What? No, not really.” Jim evaded. He'd wound himself up pretty good over-thinking this, but that was his problem, and he'd get over it.

“Our usual activities are not relaxing to you?”

“They're plenty relaxing, Spock. What are you talking about?”

“Your anxiety has increased steadily over the past several days, in spite of regular sexual release, chess, and sleep. I wish to know what is causing this tension.”

“Nothing.”

“You are lying.”

At that, Jim deflated a little, because he was lying. He turned a bit red and wouldn't meet Spock's eyes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Itsjusttheshowerthing.” he mumbled.

Spock blinked. “What about the shower?”

“Nothing. See, this is why I didn't want to talk about this. You're all weird now.”

“I am not acting irregularly.” Spock pointed out.

“It's just... what do you get out of it?” Jim asked. If they were going to have this conversation, he may as well try to get something out of it.

“Pardon?”

“You get me off every day, and yeah it's a little weird how we do it, but I guess I do kind of like it, but it's also really one sided.”

“Naturally, as I am currently impotent.”

“Exactly my point.”

Spock went cold. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asked tonelessly, but feeling slightly panicked.

“What? No! Why would you think that?”

“Nyota was displeased with the prospect of a one-sided sexual arrangement, and now you are expressing similar displeasure.”

“I just want to know what you think of it, Spock. Help me out here. What the hell does it even do for you?”

“You are my mate. I enjoy giving you pleasure.”

“It can't possibly be that simple. You must have things you want too.”

“It is indeed that simple.” Spock insisted. “I enjoy the feelings that I cause in you. I am a touch telepath, Jim. You must realize that I can experience much of what you go through vicariously through that link. However, I must admit that I do also have a certain... curiosity about other activities we might try. I had simply not wanted to push the issue.”

“Please, push the issue. If you want to try something, I'm all yours. It'd make me feel less... I don't know, almost guilty, about feeling like I'm using you for sex or something.”

“Very well. Take off your clothes and proceed to the bed.”

“Wait, what? Now?”

“We are off duty.” Spock pointed out. “And our chess game has been doing nothing to relieve your tension. I believe that sexual experimentation is in order.”

“What kind of experiment?” he asked warily, but he was following Spock into the bedroom and already lifting his shirt.

“I wish to give you pleasure.” Spock stated simply, and waited pointedly for Jim to take off the rest of his clothes.

“You always give me pleasure. Aren't you going to get naked too?” Jim asked curiously.

“Unnecessary.”

“Uhm, yeah... okay.” Jim said a bit self consciously, and laid himself down beside Spock. For a while, Spock simply admired his mate, letting his hands ghost over the pale skin, relaxing him. “So... this pleasure thing.” Jim asked again. “How is this different tonight?”

“I wish to learn your sexual limits.” Spock said, as if that explained anything. And maybe it didn't really explain anything as far as Jim was concerned, but it did get him hot. Spock was the last person he'd imagined as reaching his sexual limits, but Spock had surprised him already, and he was learning it didn't serve him to make assumptions about the Vulcan.

So, he did his best to relax, and closed his eyes to shut out the weirdness of a clothed, unaroused partner. He reminded himself -- Spock wanted to do this, whatever this was. And he'd give almost anything to Spock. Maybe actually anything. He wasn't sure. Just as Spock was curious about Jim's limits, Jim was curious about his own limits as well. He wasn't actually sure he'd run into one yet. And wasn't that disconcerting?

It turned out that what Spock really wanted to experiment with this time, it seemed, was teasing. He took his time, learning every nuance of how Jim responded to his touch, and for the fourth time now Jim was right on the brink of orgasm when Spock denied him, stopping all motion and simply gripping the base of his cock as he strained and whimpered, desperate for any amount of friction to send him over the edge.

“God, Spock! Please.” he whimpered, looking up at him desperately, practically shivering with need. “You're killing me here.”

“Are you saying you wish to come?”

“YES. God, yes.”

“Hmm.”

Jim whimpered and gave his best puppy-dog eyes, willing Spock to send him over the edge.

“As much as I want you to come?”

Jim had no idea what Spock meant by that but by now he wasn't thinking clearly in general so he quickly agreed. “Yes. Please. Yes, just --”

And Spock resumed his quick pace of stroking, his hand a blur on Jim's oversensitized cock, as Jim made a needy keening noise and in an instant shot all over himself and Spock's hand, writhing in the sheets, his whole body tense as he grunted out his release. He was so keyed up at that point he couldn't remember the last time he'd come so hard and was gasping for breath by the time the last dribbles of cum ran out. But Spock hadn't slowed.

He kept an iron grip on Jim's cock and continued to work it in frenzied motions, and Jim realized with a dawning horror what he'd agreed to. As he met Spock's eyes with this realization he could have sworn Spock smirked.

“Nonononono stop stop, Spock, ah!” Jim complained desperately, twitching to get away from the overpowering sensations.

Spock did pause. “Your safe word is red. Do you understand?”

And he did understand, much as he didn't want to. He nodded curtly and Spock resumed his fast pace, his other hand coming up to polish the overly red head and Jim let out a wild, animal sound that stirred Spock's blood. He liked this experiment, very much so. Jim bucked and thrashed and made more desperate sounds and then he felt like he was breaking, bending and breaking into a thousand pieces, his cock on fire as something tightened within him and another rush of cum pumped out, much smaller than the first. He actually sobbed as it happened. He'd never sobbed from sex, and he was certain this was the single most intense sexual experience of his life. He only made little keening noises as his hips and cock twitched as Spock continued to torture him through his second cum, until finally, at long last, Jim's cock started flagging, simply unable to contend with any more sensation.

Finally, delicately, Spock released him, and Jim continued to lie still with his eyes closed, simply breathing and trying to stop his errant twitches, trying desperately to put his brain back together and process what the hell he'd just gone through. When he opened his eyes, Spock was staring at him.

“I cherish thee.” Spock said reverently.

“I love you too, Spock.” Jim said with an exhausted breath. “Just... god. This is your idea of an experiment?”

“Affirmative.”

“You're incredible.”

“You are quite pleasing as well.” His eyes smiled. “Are you feeling more relaxed?” he queried.

And Jim couldn't help it. He broke out into semi-hysterical laughter. “I guess I am.” he admitted. He felt like he didn't have a bone in his body.

“Then I believe the experiment was a success.”


	6. Chastity

They continued their shower sessions, and now they had begun sharing a bed together at night, out of Jim's want for physical closeness. Spock had willingly obliged, and they naturally began to sleep naked together, and Spock had taken it upon himself to further his scientific knowledge of Jim, often playing with him well into the night, or first thing in the morning in lieu of shower time. He'd play with Jim's cock, teasing sometimes, and others giving post orgasm torture. He'd play with Jim's hole, sometimes at the same time as his cock, sometimes alone. He'd take Jim to orgasm at times and other nights leave him in a restless frenzy. But there seemed to be an unspoken rule between them that whenever Spock wanted access to Jim's body, he got it. And he seemed to want access often. Jim was going mad with it, but he was also delighted.

Not only was he just generally delighted with the direction his relationship with Spock was going, but unfortunately, he'd gotten used to it. And with weeks of star mapping available to start off their relationship, he'd had the time and space (literally) to fall into a comfortable groove. But now they actually had a kind of important diplomatic mission coming up, one that would last days. One that would be filled with banquets and debates, with endless political schmoozing and long nights. A diplomatic mission wherein Kirk and Spock could count on being assigned separate quarters, and where it wouldn't do to have them sneaking in to sleep with one another or even sneak off for a quickie of some sort. And Kirk was dreading it.

He wasn't actually that bad at diplomatic missions. He was usually pretty good at them. But they could be tedious even for him, after a while, always having to be “on”. It would be nice on those nights to come back to his boyfriend to relax. In the past, he'd always made off with one of the many alien women falling into his arms and had gotten his release that way. Which was a whole other aspect of this mission that he wasn't looking forward to -- turning people down for sex, particularly when he'd be wound tighter than a spring. It would be new to him, and he would do it, but he wouldn't like it. He and Spock had already had “the talk” about how they would remain exclusive, as if it weren't crystal clear already. Kirk had known already, and now it had been stated explicitly, in no uncertain terms. Apparently, he was not even permitted to flirt, though he wasn't sure he could pull that off because he wasn't really sure when he was flirting.

It was an hour before beam-down on the first day of the mission when Spock stepped back into Jim's quarters through their adjoining bathroom looking impeccably dressed and ready to go. They'd had “shower time” this morning and Jim was in good spirits, at least for now. “Ready to go, Spock?”

“Negative.” He walked forward, hands clasped behind his back. “We have one more thing to discuss.”

“Oh? And what's that?” Jim asked curiously, pulling on his shirt.

“I have brought you a gift.” he said.

Jim's eyes lit up. “A gift?” He tried to peer around Spock's back, and was put out of his misery as Spock revealed the hidden object.

There in his hands: a cock cage.

Jim looked dismayed and confused. “What the hell is that?”

“It is a chastity device.” Spock explained. “I would like you to wear it.”

“I know what it is, Spock.” Jim said worriedly, his arms coming to cross in front of him as if guarding himself. He glanced around, then back at the thing. “Why? What if I don't want to? Don't you trust me or something? And what if I want to jack off at night in my quarters?” he eyed the lock dubiously.

“How about this.” Spock said. “I will carry the key on my person at all times, and if at any point you really wish to release yourself, you may simply ask me for it and take care of it yourself. Or if even that is not enough, I will allow you to keep a spare key on your person, and if you want to take the device off, you can do so on a whim.”

Jim's tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. “Then why would I put it on at all if I can just take it off?” he questioned.

“I do not believe you will take it off.” Spock stated without inflection.

Jim stared at him, just daring him to smirk or look too sure of himself, but Spock didn't move a muscle. Jim questioned himself whether or not this was a good idea, whether he wanted to do it, why in the hell he would want to do it, whether he'd remove the thing, how long it would last, how it would feel, how it would make him feel emotionally... and the only response he got back was static. And some arousal. His cock twitched a bit in his uniform pants, so before he could get fully erect and ruin the possibility of leaving in a timely fashion, he dropped his pants and underwear as consent.

Spock moved forward and with a few deft motions, the thing was secured, no looking back. Jim was too utterly mortified to comment on the situation and was relieved that Spock said no more as he righted his pants and checked nervously in the bathroom mirror to see whether it was conspicuous. It seemed to be entirely invisible, for which he was grateful although untrustworthy of it. Spock simply held out a spare key for Jim that Jim stared at a long moment. “I'll ask you for it.” he decided. He didn't know why he didn't want the key in his own pocket, but he didn't. It felt like too much burden somehow, and he really didn't want to question that line of thinking. “Let's get breakfast.” he changed the topic entirely.

“Very well.” Spock said simply as they made their way to the mess. By the time they had their food, it was business as usual, as if nothing unusual had happened at all. Dr. McCoy joined them for food and banter, giving Jim a hard time as usual for dating a hobgoblin, and it was like any other normal day. Except that Kirk knew. And Spock knew. This was going to be a weird mission.

 

 

The thing really didn't chafe or get in his way when he sat, which was good. In fact, he was weirded out a bit with how comfortable it wound up being. Jim had thought for sure he wouldn't have lasted the day with this hunk of plastic on his dick, but so far, so good. And actually, while talking to the councilwoman whose cleavage was practically spilling out of her dress, he was weirdly glad for it as his cock threatened to erect and under usual circumstances he'd have to shift awkwardly and hide this basic response. But now? There was no room for it to grow. And while this pinched a bit at first, after about five minutes Little Jimmy seemed to get the hint and gave up. It was quite handy.

He had no idea whether he was flirting throughout the banquet but he did know that he'd had to turn down four different ladies for their discrete offers and he wasn't really sure what to make of how easy it was to do so, because of course he didn't want them to discover this contraption on him, and he didn't want to have to ask Spock for the key and give himself away... not that he really had considered cheating on Spock for an instant, but the reality of his situation made the impossibility of a hookup all the more real to him. It wasn't even a real decision he had to make, now.

But into the long hours of the night when he finally was released to his temporary quarters, he really almost commed Spock. Would it be weird to meet with his first officer so late? He wasn't sure. He had every reason to meet with Spock if he really had something he had to discuss in private, but it might look weird with Spock coming to his quarters this late, or it might look fishy for them to be having off the record conversations like that. Jim paced his room, totally keyed up from the stress of the day and missing his boyfriend and absolutely hating this piece of plastic that prevented him from just simply taking care of certain biological needs. Maybe he should just comm Spock.

He decided to take a hot shower to relax himself slightly and hopefully better think about his options here. His hand grazed over the impenetrable barrier and moved down to palm his heavy balls. He groaned. He'd become used to Spock getting him off at least once, often twice a day. And there in the shower he considered, just hypothetically, what his reward would be like if he lasted in this thing even a day longer. The ensuing orgasm would probably be phenomenal. Maybe this was why Spock had seemed so certain he'd leave the device on, Jim thought. He was certainly a creative lover. He'd never suspected the Vulcan to have so many kinks. And hadn't he decided to deny Spock nothing? To find the limits of his sexuality? It was settled then.

Jim got himself out of the shower, dried off, and didn't bother with clothes. Sexually frustrated and with a pathetic quarter chub struggling against the cage, Jim drifted into a restless sleep.

 

 

The second day of negotiations, Jim bounded out of bed, practically crackling with pent up energy, and light on his feet. He was actually grateful for the long hours and hard work required to keep things moving smoothly because it gave him something to distract from his restless energy. Something to focus on, something to do.

And the dinner and ensuing socialization that evening was no less tedious than it had been the night before. Spock sidled up next to him, drink in hand, at one point when the others had finally left him a moment in peace.

“I am surprised you have lasted this long.” Spock said conversationally. They could well be talking about work, about general nerves. But of course they were not.

“That little faith in me, Mr. Spock?” Jim retorted teasingly.

“I have all the faith in the world in you, Captain.” he said warmly, and Jim was grateful for at least one shared moment with him. He took it for what it was, drinking in the warmth of Spock's chocolate eyes, and then of course the moment was over. Someone had sidled up next to them, eager to talk to the Captain and First Officer of the Enterprise about something or other. Jim turned to face duty as he always had.

 

Back in his quarters, duty out of the way, he mulled over what to do about this cage. It was really starting to grate on him. He wanted to run or something to work off this tension, but he was paradoxically exhausted. He just wanted to sleep but he had that itch deep inside somewhere he couldn't pinpoint and his balls were starting to ache a bit. It was not comfortable. And what was the point of this anyway? Spock had seemed quite pleased with himself as the women has accosted him at the dinner. He must be smug, knowing what Jim was really wearing, what he was really going through. Smug Vulcan bastard. Jim palmed his balls as he lay in his bed, lights out but staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

He tried to work a finger in under the plastic but to no avail. Curious, though, he wet a finger (poorly) with saliva and breached is hole in search of his prostate. It was uncomfortable -- spit wasn't really lube -- but he ignored the burn of discomfort and probed to where he knew he'd find that cluster of nerves, and moaned. Yes, there. But all it did was make his cock jump in its cage which made it ache as it struggled ineffectually to expand, and all he'd really done was wind himself up tighter with sexual frustration. He removed his finger, twisted the sheets tightly around himself, and closed his eyes stubbornly, willing himself to sleep. Sleep was a long time coming.

 

On the third day of negotiations they finally, finally signed something and Jim almost wept with relief and exhaustion. And by almost, of course, that meant that he was entirely professional and captainly, but inside he was dying to get Spock alone somewhere. But then of course there was another damned banquet, and more paperwork to process, and a late night comm with Starfleet, and beaming up procedures, and orders to relay as to their next destination.

Jim didn't get back to his own quarters until 3 in the morning, and there he found Spock already curled into his bed, fast asleep. He wanted to wake him, demand he be released, demand he obtain some release... but he was exhausted too. As frustrated as he was, as much as he was getting blue balls from hell, the thought of simply snuggling in bed with his Vulcan boyfriend was too much to resist, and so that's what he did.


	7. Prostate Milking

It was day four of Jim's semi-voluntary chastity, and Spock was already in the bathroom doing something when Jim rose to his alarm and went to join him in the shower. Shower time. God, never before had he looked this forward to their strange ritual. All he wanted was to be taken in his Vulcan's strong arms and jacked off to blissful release.

“Spock.” he murmured, coming up behind Spock as the water warmed and wrapping his arms around his nude frame.

“Jim.” Spock said with an affectionate timbre.

“You gotta get me out of this thing. I'm dying here.”

“I have learned you are quite fond of hyperbole.” he said with a smirk.

“Come on, please?”

“If that is what you wish.” he said, and picked up the key that he'd stashed in a drawer when he'd emptied his pockets.

“Of course it's what I wish. Don't you? There's no one on the Enterprise I'm going to sleep with aside from you.”

“Hm.” Spock said non-committally.

“What do you mean hm? It's shower time.” he said in a small voice. “You know....”

“A time when I take care of my human.” Spock said gently.

“Yeah.” Jim said earnestly, looking at him adoringly.

Spock gently set his palm against Jim's cheek as Jim nuzzled into it. “And what if my human is best cared for in this manner?”

“Mm?” Jim whimpered, half uncomprehendingly, half afraid of what he thought he understood.

“If it is your wish that I remove the cage, then I will do so.” Spock reassured. “However, if it is your wish that you achieve sexual release --” and here he palmed Jim's heavy, aching balls, “then there are other options.”

Jim breathed slow and heavy, feeling light headed with curiosity and lust at what Spock was suggesting. What was he suggesting, anyway? “Whatever you want.” he agreed despite his better judgement. And with that, Spock set the key back into the drawer and stepped into the hot shower, waiting for Jim to join him.

There was lube in the shower. There was lube everywhere in their chambers these days. Spock gently eased one finger, then two, into Jim's tight hole.

“I already tried that.” Jim sighed, simultaneously loving and hating the attention when he couldn't become erect and do anything about it.

“Shh.” Spock admonished him, pulling him to lean into his frame, facing him, so he had good access to Jim's ass. “Relax. I will take care of you.”

And Jim had no idea what Spock thought he was going to do, but damn if that voice and those words and those strong arms didn't melt him every time. He relaxed, leaning his head on Spock's chest as the warm water cascaded around them and Spock's fingers worked diligently in and out, against his prostate, forcing him to give little whimpers and grunts as Spock thrust home relentlessly.

And a curious thing began to build -- not like his other anal orgasms. This was weirdly different. After some time, Little Jimmy had more or less given up at barely a quarter mast and Jim's breathing had become deep and even and he sensed distantly a building, pleasant sort of pressure, but not as demanding as it usually was. It continued and continued, until finally something seemed to just give, and he was spilling cum in steady rivulets out of his cock, while it was soft. He didn't know if he was freaked out or fascinated by it, but Spock had seemed to know that this could be done. He gave a soft sigh of pure relief as the pressure and ache he'd been contending with was gone, the tension gone.

But it was weird. As much of a release as it was, it wasn't really an orgasm either. He still felt a desperate desire for more, to become erect and have the sort of explosive experience he normally had. He whimpered slightly as Spock coaxed the last bit of cum from his spent prostate and gently removed his fingers.

“Is that not better, my sweet one?” Spock murmured into his ear, and Jim found himself nodding affirmatively, feeling all kinds of submissive and embarrassed and adoring of his Vulcan. Spock sensed his vulnerability and wrapped his arms tightly around Jim, kissing his head repeatedly and murmuring reassurances to him until he had come back from his distant headspace enough to finish their shower and finish preparing for the day.

That day on the bridge was the first day Jim had worn the device in the Captain's chair, and he weirdly hardly noticed it. There was nothing particularly arousing to remind him of its presence. There was no dull ache to get off after he'd found his release that morning. And he wondered distantly how long Spock intended to keep this game going, and how long he'd allow it.


	8. Chastity Challenge

Spock toyed with the device. And fussed with it. They were spooning and it was bed time and Jim was feeling twitchy and irritated because Spock was practically obsessing over the chastity device now that he had time to admire how it sat on him and really experience it. Jim sighed but allowed it, secretly liking it every time Spock's hand drifted south and played with his balls instead, even as he grew partially erect and pressed against the cage seeking release.

“How long do you plan to keep this on me?” he asked breathlessly.

“I have not yet decided.”

Jim huffed a breath but submitted himself to the experience, allowing his legs to part slightly more as Spock shifted him for better access.

“Are you satisfied with the arrangement?” Spock queried. “I do not wish to push you into something against your will.”

“It's fine.” he pressed his ass back instinctively seeking a hard cock that of course wasn't there. And the fact that Spock wasn't even aroused, wasn't a wanton needy little thing like him, was overwhelmingly, humiliatingly hot.

Spock knew that fine had variable definitions, but he could feel from so much skin to skin contact that Jim was in heaven right now, even with his frustration. That just made it more of a challenge, and Jim loved a challenge.

“Hmm. What is the longest you've gone without any form of sexual release?”

Jim thought about it. He'd never really considered. But for as long as he could remember at least in recent times, he'd jacked off regularly every morning with his shower. Of course, there had been times where it hadn't been convenient. Just this past diplomatic mission he'd gone for 3 days without anything at all. It had nearly killed him, but that wasn't really a fair metric, because prior to that Spock had been glutting him on sex. He did remember that during his first summer break at the academy he'd gone camping for a full seven days with McCoy and hadn't touched himself once because he hadn't had a chance and it would have been weird. “A week?” he supplied hesitantly.

“I would like to observe your state of being after such a length of time without release.” Spock stated matter-of-factly, still toying with him.

Jim wriggled to get some relief from the sensation, to no avail. He'd almost died after three days! Spock wanted a week? With no shower time? Wait, that was a good point. What exactly did Spock categorize as release? “Just to be clear --” he panted slightly, “by release you mean--”

“What we did this morning.”

Jim groaned. That was hardly a release. The whole idea of it made him dizzy. “And after that?”

“Perhaps we will build your tolerance.” Spock mused. “I speculate that you could work up to at least two weeks before such a release were necessary.”

The whole idea of it made Jim dizzy. “And what about an actual orgasm?”

“Perhaps once a month.”

Once a month?! Spock wanted to give him an actual honest to god orgasm only once per month? Suddenly he wasn't sure he was on board with this plan. He felt the edges of panic creeping in.

“Of course,” Spock continued, “The use of the chastity device is only safe when we are star mapping. Should you go on any landing parties where there is even the slightest chance of danger, you'd have to forgo the device as a safety precaution. Not to mention how embarrassing it might be for Doctor McCoy to find you in such a thing should you become injured.”

How could Spock even talk like that? Jim's mind reeled. And he knew he'd do it. He wanted to do it. As curious as Spock was to find out what the result of this little experiment would be, Jim was even more keyed up to find out, in spite of his suffering.

But all the kinky games aside, Jim Kirk was still a starship captain, and he had to be able to sleep sufficiently, and he had to be able to concentration the running of his ship, not his dick, and he was a bit concerned about where all this sexual frustration would leave him. Spock had assigned him a safe word with that first “experiment” of his. Would he call “red” if this whole thing actually became too much? Would he even admit that it was too much for the great James Tomcat Kirk to handle? Answers eluded him. He'd just have to wait and find out. Determinedly, he closed his eyes and thought firmly about sleep, even as Spock continued his idle exploration of his anatomy. If Spock wanted to test his limits, then they'd test those limits.

 

 

Their morning shower was efficient, and Jim hated that. He'd awoken this morning with an ache in his balls already, no thanks to Spock who had teased him relentlessly the previous night. And now he was being denied the shower time release he'd grown so fond of. It was infuriating, but he'd signed up for this. And if Spock was going to act all aloof and proper well then he was too, damn it. He supposed he should be grateful that Spock hadn't teased him even more in the shower. At least he had a fighting chance of getting through this experiment of his.

And that was his stance on it all day. He focused his mind as deliberately as possible on his work. Threw himself into his work, even. He finished his reports, inspected engineering, and checked in on those science labs that he usually trusted to Spock and neglected somewhat. He spent some time bugging McCoy in sickbay as well until he'd been thrown out because “some people had to work”. He was all kinds of keyed up and he had to do something with his energy. Normally, he might try to work some of it off in the gym, but with the reality of locker room exposure, he was sure as hell not going to risk anyone seeing him like this.

That evening when he'd actually polished his boots on his own instead of leaving it to a yeoman, he was utterly relieved when Spock finally joined him for some chess. He was going absolutely stir crazy. What did he normally do with his time? He couldn't remember ever feeling this desperate to fill it before. But there was nothing to be done for it. He was just glad he had Spock there to converse with, play games with, spend his time.

And blessedly, Spock had actually left him alone that night to deal with his sexual frustration in dogged silence, without extra difficulties to contend with. Jim decided he would simply be thankful for small miracles.

 

The second day and third day were much the same. The fourth day felt again like the last time he'd gone this long without stimulation. He was frustrated, he was cranky, he was desperate. He'd tried to make out with Spock in the shower, hoping against hope that it would lead somewhere. Spock fondled his aching balls with some amusement, seeing right through the ruse. “Are you having difficulties, my Jim?”

Jim simply whimpered in response to the stimulation and widened his legs to give Spock access. God, anything, anything would be welcome, surely. He had this ache, this itch, and he was certain he'd lose his mind soon if something didn't give. How the hell he hadn't had a wet dream by now was beyond him. Hope sprung into his chest as Spock's finger probed his hole and he leaned his head against Spock's strong, lightly furred chest, ready to submit himself to whatever ignominious treatment Spock preferred. He sighed into the sensation, even with the burn of too little lubrication, and let Spock simply finger him for a while without any real aim. And then... it was over.

It took a moment for Jim to register that. What? What had happened? They weren't going to -- He looked up at Spock with sad, pleading eyes.

“You can quit at any time.” Spock reassured him, caressing his cheek fondly.

But of course, Jim couldn't quit. Wouldn't quit. Wouldn't bring himself to actually ask for release if Spock wanted him to try to go a little longer, try a little harder. With a shaky breath he stepped away and finished his shower efficiently. It was going to be a long day.


	9. Piss

It was on the fifth day of Jim's chastity challenge, well into the night, when Jim was busy distracting himself with another inspection of Spock's anatomy. Spock bore it well, patient and somewhat amused at Jim's incessant curiosity. As far as Spock was concerned, there was nothing of interest to see, but as far as Jim was concerned, Spock's anatomy would always be something interesting to see. He'd been experimenting with different touches and probes along the skin of his genital pouch, asking Spock bluntly what it felt like, whether it was pleasant or unpleasant, and trying to get his bearings.

 

After he was fully satisfied with use of his hands, he'd repeated the process with his tongue. He got the sense that Spock did indeed like what he was doing -- that even if it weren't exactly arousing, it was a pleasant sensation nonetheless, and that it was an emotionally fulfilling experience in some way because it was his genitals receiving the attention, and that had certain connotations understood by species the universe over. Probing his tongue into the slit and licking the length of Spock's flaccid cock, he was able to suck the head and a bit more into his mouth gently, content to simply suckle there for a moment and see how Spock felt about it.

 

“If you are endeavouring to extract some substance,” Spock teased, “you may be disappointed. Unless, of course, you are content with the result of certain other biological functions.”

 

Certain other... Jim pulled off with a wet squelch, his eyes wide. “You wouldn't.”

 

Spock all but shrugged. “Not without consent, no. However, I see no reason for such alarm.”

 

Jim gave him an even more shocked, slightly disgusted look. “Are you serious? You, the neat freak, would indulge in piss play?”

 

“It is safe for consumption.” Spock said simply, as if that explained everything. And perhaps for a logical Vulcan, it did. If it was safe, what was the problem?

 

Jim stared at him a long time, trying to parse what he'd just heard. And slowly, very slowly, he lowered himself back down, and sucked the head of Spock's cock back into his mouth. With deliberate intent, he looked up at Spock, and met his eyes. For a moment, time hung, as they both gauged each other, daring each other to proceed, uncertain why they were doing this, but feeling intuitively it was part of this weird high stakes game they were playing.

 

And then Spock let go, his eyes riveted.

 

The first splash of piss on Jim's tongue almost made him cough, sputter, and gag. He pulled off, eyes watering and coughing, half in disbelief that Spock had actually called his bluff, and half in disbelief of himself that he'd let it go that far. Coughing and sputtering, wiping his mouth with his shirt and just calling the shirt a lost cause, he saw some drips lay on Spock's skin as well as he'd taken a moment to stop the flow. He pulled off his shirt to wipe the mess before it got on the bed and was grateful that at least Spock hadn't wet himself.

 

“Jesus, Spock.” he protested.

 

Spock's eyes sparkled with clear amusement. “I did tell you I would relieve myself. I do not know what you had expected would happen.”

 

“You are one kinky fuck.” Jim said with just a little irritation in his voice. He got off the bed to toss his shirt in the laundry and get a fresh one, stopping to get himself a drink of water as well. He felt himself blush all over at the acrid taste that lingered on his tongue reminding him of what he'd just done.

 

Spock watched his mate with keen attention, his initial amusement fading slightly as he judged Jim's countenance, and began to become concerned. Were the things they were trying too taboo? If he were honest with himself, he had really enjoyed what had just happened. There was something so deliciously primal about the idea of his mate drinking his piss. His power over Jim, his scent on his mate, it sent a delicious shiver down his spine. But of course he wouldn't like it at the cost of Jim's emotional well-being.

 

“You are really upset about this? Have I overstepped?” he probed cautiously.

 

Jim was silent a long moment, considering. He could hear the sincerity and concern from his lover. He sighed. “No.” he muttered, setting down his glass and running a hand through his hair. “Maybe. I don't know, Spock. Why is it always me?” he asked awkwardly, and felt another wave of embarrassment slam into him, heating his flesh.

 

“Why is what always you, t'hy'la? If you are discontent, you must communicate such with me.” Spock said softly, beginning to really worry.

 

“I just...” he closed his eyes, wishing illogically that he could burrow into Spock's skin somehow and never come out. He moved to the bed again, seeking closer proximity. The gulf between them was too wide for this intimate talk. “I've never done anything like this. Any of this. I worry about what it says about me, what it means. I'm a goddamned starship captain, Spock. Am I losing my mojo? Turning into some little bitch?”

 

“I do not think of you as such.”

 

“No?”

 

“I think of you as someone I cherish deeply, and I endeavour that our sexual interactions, and indeed all our interactions, be mutually pleasurable experiences. It does not matter to me whether you enjoy a submissive role at times. You are my captain. You are perhaps the best captain in the fleet, though I may be biased.”

 

Jim snorted. “You? Biased? Mr. Spock, I thought you were the epitome of logic.”

 

“I have been known to experience the occasional bout of sentimentality.” he admitted.

 

Jim grinned. “I love you, you know?”

 

“Of that I have no doubt. And I love you as well, ashaya.”

 

“This whole chastity thing is really killing me though, you know that right?”

 

“I am aware of your difficulty. You can end the game at any time.” he taunted lightly.

 

“Like hell.” Jim grumbled stubbornly. “But seriously, Spock, piss? Just... why?” he shook his head with incomprehension. He'd tried it and it really hadn't been great. Maybe, just maybe, he'd reached a limit of sorts.

 

“What is not enjoyable about my mate carrying my scent?” Spock retorted, feeling himself squirm a bit anxiously himself. Was this not a human instinct as well? With their decreased sense of smell as compared to Vulcans, he considered, perhaps not.

 

“So if I pissed on you, you'd like that?”

 

Now this was something Spock had not considered. He turned the idea over in his mind, eyeing his Jim intensely, his eyes darkening in spite of his Vulcan control.

 

Jim grinned cheekily. “Oh my god. Go get in the shower!” he enthused, pushing against Spock to get him out of the bed. Spock was reluctant to move, but knew that Jim would not stop his insistent prodding now that he'd uncovered one of Spock's own awkward secrets. He gave into the inevitability of the situation and let himself be herded toward the shower, feeling his cheeks heat with unaccustomed green. Was this his version of the arousal Jim so often felt?

 

Tentatively, Spock stepped into the shower stall, eyes on Jim.

 

“Well?” Jim asked, crossing his arms across his chest. He moved his hand in a circle of impatience, a 'get on with it' motion.

 

Spock blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

 

“Unless you're going to unlock this cage, Spock, you're going to have to kneel for this to happen.” Jim informed him, voice pitched low and enticing.

 

Spock's eyes widened slightly. His pi'veh before him, locked in chastity, and lording over him all the same. With deliberate, slow movement, Spock knelt on one knee, then the other, the white tile hard and cold beneath his bony knees.

 

And with the feline grace of a le matya, Jim advanced, close enough that his stream would intercept Spock in spite of his encasement. His own eyes mirrored Spock's in intensity and dilation as he let himself go.

 

Spock's eyes closed in spite of himself, just taking it in. The hot stream splashing against him. The thick, musty scent of it. The knowledge that it was Jim. He was Jim's. He'd been marked. It sent a delicious shiver through him. And Jim for his part was ready to stop at any second, half suspecting he'd half to just as Spock had stopped for him. Wouldn't Spock figure out this was disgusting? Any second now? But he wasn't convincing himself either. Somehow, being on the giving end of this exchange had turned Jim's mind around on the idea of piss in general. Maybe it wasn't something he'd want often, by any means, but the fact that Spock seemed to want it....

 

“Jesus Spock.” he whispered in awe as the stream petered out. Spock blinked his owl-like eyes up at Jim. “You liked that?” he asked wonderingly, shaking his head.

 

Spock's mouth was curiously dry as made himself respond honestly. “I did.”

 

“Hot damn.” Jim said, running a hand through his hair as he worked to process it. “Let's get you cleaned up.” he said gently, starting the shower spray, stripping off, and stepping in to wash Spock clean himself. “No piss in the bed, and I clean up my messes.”

 

Spock was grateful to not have to explain further. And he knew that in spite of the soap, at least to Vulcan senses, the scent of his mate would linger on his skin. And he cherished Jim all the more. Passively, he submitted himself to Jim's gentle touch and cleaning hands. He hadn't expected to gain so much from these fringe sexual practices, but they were fulfilling to him in a way nothing else ever had been. And he was so, so grateful.


	10. Intermission and Round Two

On the seventh day of chastity, Jim awoke knowing that today he'd get a sort of relief without release -- the pseudo-orgasm that Spock had informed him was referred to as “prostate milking”. He was looking forward to the relief to his balls but had resigned himself that there would be another week of absolute hell before he'd get a really spectacular orgasm. And now that he knew what this relief would entail, he wasn't totally thrilled by it. It was a weird experience, slow coming and slightly humiliating.

And when Jim awoke and looked up at Spock, Spock knew what he was thinking, what he was asking for, and he silently grabbed the beside lube as Jim turned onto his side away from Spock to present his ass, shifting his knee up for easy access. He was quiet today, subdued, as he breathed deeply and evenly, waiting for the magical moment to take effect. No need to waste water in the shower getting there, because it was a game of patience here, they both knew. But Spock was persistent and precise as ever, and watched with wonder as Jim's soft, encased cock finally released thick gobs of cum, slowly oozing onto a pile of tissues. Jim sighed with a sort of relief and simply lost himself in his submission to the act, as Spock was fastidious as always, making sure that every last drop was released.

“Better?” Spock asked gently as he cleaned the mess.

Jim nodded and forced himself out of the bed to join his lover in the shower. He was in a weird mood -- subdued from the frenzy of the last week. Even McCoy noticed and commented on it in the mess, noting gruffly “You're quiet today.” to which Jim had just shrugged and smiled a bit. If only he knew. He'd probably have an aneurysm.

The next week was actually weirdly easier for Jim. He was actually quite proud of himself. Maybe Spock was right that with proper discipline, he'd get better at this. He didn't know why he should want to get any better at this, but it felt good nonetheless to master any skill he set his mind to. It wasn't until the fifth day this time that he was really struggling at all, and Spock, being the sadistic bastard that he was, decided to up the stakes a bit by introducing a new toy.

Jim stared at what was presented to him. A rather large, though not ridiculously sized butt plug. He looked back up at Spock and mirrored the raised brow. “Seriously? Where the hell did you even get all this stuff?”

“The star base we stopped at before the diplomatic mission.”

“Is there more to it?” Jim had half a mind to raid the Vulcan's room right now if he was keeping a hidden stash of sex toys.

“Affirmative.” Spock said with amusement. “However, I would prefer to keep them in reserve for now so as to not become bored by the time we reach another star base.”

“Damn. You know the curiosity is going to drive me crazy, right?”

“That was part of the appeal in telling you.”

“You're a sadist.”

Spock didn't deny it. “So you will wear it?”

Jim wrinkled his nose in annoyance but nodded and laid himself out unceremoniously on the bed. He'd wear it, but he'd be petulant about it for at least a moment until he had to go and be captainly. Spock seemed nonplussed by the behaviour and began to prepare Jim, stretching him gradually until he could take the blunt object that stretched him nicely and would press just a bit against his prostate when he sat. He was pleased with the results.

Jim dressed in a hurry and like when he'd first donned the cock cage, checked his physique in the bathroom mirror to make absolutely certain no one could tell what he was sporting under those uniform pants. Satisfied that it was all but impossible to know, he proceeded with Spock to the mess, keenly aware at how the plug stretched and pulled at him with every stride, giving him a dull ache and sparks of arousal that went straight to his bound cock which twitched in interest but had nowhere to go. It was devious, and it wasn't fair. He'd been doing so well before.

Sitting down to eat his breakfast was when he finally realized how insidious the plug was going to be. The plug pressed right against his prostate. Not overly hard, but it was right there, nudging him, and no matter how he shifted, he wasn't going to get any relief from it. And of course it wouldn't do to be seen shifting about like a toddler, so he set his jaw and decided to just sit through it. Because of course, there was no way in hell he was going to go back to his quarters and simply remove the thing. That would mean Spock had won. Somehow. The situation was what it was. If Spock could master meditation, so could he, in his way.

The irritation only spurred him back into his super-captain mode, and he got more done that day than he had probably all week -- leaping through paperwork, catching up with all his departments, and walking all throughout his ship to ensure it was in tip top shape. Maybe Spock had something here with all of this. It seemed when he was at his most sexually frustrated, he was also in his top form at all times except for in their bedroom, behind closed doors. And there was nothing to complain about in that. As long as he could be a good captain, what he did in the bedroom was none of anyone's concern.

It was a revelation of sorts, for Jim. An epiphany. However depraved he and Spock's games were, they were not taking anything essential away from him. In fact they were liberating in a way, and the challenge motivated him, kept him on his toes. Suddenly his old concerns seemed silly, and he felt lighter by the end of that day than he had all week, though his balls ached from want of release, his cock ached from straining against its cage, and his hole ached from the stretch of a work day contending with the hard plug. All of this was nothing, of course, as he snuggled into the warm arms of his Vulcan and slept like a rock.


	11. Payoff

It was the final day of Jim's agreed upon chastity, and he was looking forward to the release he'd been promised that night. His mind skipped through all the various possibilities in how Spock might get him off. Spock had admitted freely to having more toys in his possession. That could mean any number of things, and Jim was curious to try them all.

Unfortunately for Jim, the cards were stacked against him. Partway into his breakfast he'd had to race to the bridge because they'd entered some weird nebula thing (Spock could tell you the exact chemical make-up and properties of the thing, but to Jim it was a nebula thing) and it was fucking up his ship. What had begun as an astronomical curiosity had turned into a corrosive death cloud that was eating away at the ship's hull, with electro-magnetic properties that threw off navigation, and whose aforementioned electromagnetic properties also combined to work against the engines as they seemed to get sucked into that perfect storm.

They'd gotten out, of course. They always did. But Scotty was in a foul mood about his engines, and maintenance was trying to do something about the near hull breaches before they actually became real hull breaches, and everyone was shaken up and tense and sick of the constant red alert by the end of the day. Jim had worked straight through Beta and well into Gamma as he first got them past the crisis and then proceeded to monitor the damage and repairs to his ship. By the time he crawled into his room that night the last thing on his mind was getting off, though it had been all he could think about the last several days.

And it was well enough that it hadn't been on his mind at just that point because Spock was nowhere to be seen -- still off in the labs analysing the nebula, or perhaps in his quarters still filing some of the necessary mountains of paperwork that always came with such catastrophes. For his part, Jim had half a sandwich and crawled into bed.

 

Jim woke up to day fifteen of his celibate hell. He was grumpy still from the day before, and he was grumpy from not having had a real orgasm in practically years. And honestly he wasn't expecting to get anything from Spock tonight either, because he had bridge duty alpha shift, and a communiqué with Starfleet Command about their next mission during beta shift, and in addition to actually trying to sleep some during gamma, he had his regular night with McCoy scheduled so he didn't expect to get back to his room until late and then he suspected he'd find Spock asleep.

He knew he could always call off the thing with Bones, but he really didn't want to. It had been a while since he'd just had a drink and shot the breeze with Bones and he missed his friend. Plus, it seemed kind of shitty to put off their night together just for sex that he could really get any time he wanted.

And so it was a total surprise when Spock stopped him before they got in the shower that day and removed his chastity. Jim looked at him questioningly, wondering where he was going with this, but Spock just took him by the hand and led him into the hot shower, then folded him against his chest as before and brought him to a knee-buckling orgasm in record time. Jim gripped Spock's forearm in desperation, screaming Spock's name as he came, feeling entirely oversensitized and more aroused than he had in days. Now that his dick realized he could get off again, he craved it. Even after he'd cum, he had half a mind to pin Spock against the shower wall and fuck him.

“I would allow it.” Spock said wryly, picking up on Jim's thoughts.

Jim blushed. “Spock I'm not gonna just fuck you like you're my bitch or something.”

“We shall see.” he said with a smirk.

And wasn't that just the goad of the century? Jim didn't know what to do to prove his point, or what his point even was any more. Why was he refusing to fuck Spock, exactly?

But they had bridge duty anyhow and he'd already spent too much time thinking about fucking and too little time actually taking a shower and getting dressed, so he finished what they'd started and figured that was the present Spock had promised to give. Overall, not a terribly enlightening experiment as far as Jim was concerned, but at least it had been interesting at the time.

 

He was doubly surprised when Spock met him in his quarters before his conversation with Headquarters and coaxed him to wear his plug.

“Spock,” Jim said, totally flustered, “I kind of have an important call coming.”

“Do you believe yourself unable to rise to the challenge?”

Jim glared and snatched the toy from his lover, marching into the bathroom to do it himself. He was half hard for the entire conversation with Headquarters because of the damned thing, but honestly it wasn't the first time Jim had been half hard during official business, so he figured it didn't matter in the end. Not seeing Spock any time immediately after the mission briefing, he mulled over whether to leave the plug where it was or be rid of it. Spock hadn't specified, so he figured it was fair game to go either way. In the end, he left it in, because he was off duty and he liked the idea of hanging out with Bones with a plug in his ass and Bones not knowing. He would have a coniption if Jim ever told him.

 

 

When he finally crawled back into his room well into ship's night, Spock was there waiting for him. “You didn't have to stay up on my account.” he said with a sleepy smile.

“I did not. I was eager to see you.”

“I left the plug in.” Jim said with a smirk.

“I surmised as much when I could not locate it.” Spock admitted. “Its presence will make the rest of your reward go more quickly.”

“Hm?” Jim asked, stripping off his clothes to prepare for bed and stopping naked in front of Spock.

“Lie down.” he said simply, and pulled out a quite large, though not impossibly large, green dildo. Jim's eyes widened.

“Where the hell did you get that?!”

“As I have said, I procured items at the last star base.”

“You walked into a sex shop and picked up that thing, and walked out with it?” Jim dead-panned, not believing it.

“Negative. I ordered the products remotely ahead of time and had only to obtain a discrete package at the star base.”

“Oh, well that makes more sense.” Jim turned onto his front a bit nervously.

“Naturally.” Spock swiftly pulled out the plug, causing Jim to wince.

He didn't have long to contend with the sudden emptiness as Spock was nudging a very large, very slippery pole against him, working slowly to gain entrance.

“Ooof.” Jim tried to take slow, deep breaths. This was possibly the largest dick, toy or otherwise, that he'd ever contended with. “Someone's a bit ambitious.” he said breathlessly.

“You can take it.” Spock said simply, without inflection, and Jim felt his whole body flush with heat. Either Spock thought him to be a total cock whore, or he was determined to make Jim take it. Either way, it was incredibly hot.

Jim groaned as he did, in fact, begin to “take it”, the toy working into him inch by delicious inch. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so full, and his entire body went lax at the blissful feeling of it. Desperately, he swivelled his hips into the mattress to get some friction, and Spock bid him to turn over.

On his back, he didn't have the luxury of pretending, in a way, he wasn't there. He had a fully open vision of Spock and what he was shoving into his ass, as Spock's other hand came around to grip his cock and work it in tandem. Jim felt utterly exposed but his shame was brief as he was quickly swept into the deliberate motions of Spock slamming the cock deep into his ass, working over his rigid cock like a man on a mission. The mission was a resounding success as Jim positively shook with his orgasm, swivelling his hips to thrust up and then back, gasping as he got a final wonderful pay off for the abstinence games he'd played along with. Totally worth it.

Spock gently milked Jim's cock as it twitched with the aftershocks of his orgasm as Jim stabilized his breathing and looked up at Spock like he was his own personal god. For now, the toy was left fully embedded in him, and he simply rested there, taking in the light-headedness and tingling that followed a good cum. Spock gave him a few moments to settle down this time before he began again, steadily increasing the strokes to his cock, and at first Jim didn't even realise the subtle shift. When he did, he looked at Spock with some alarm, knowing what would come next. They'd done it before after all, though not with time for recovery, nor with anal play involved. Spock was going for more.

“Spock.” Jim said. He didn't know why he said it. Did he want Spock to stop? Not if he were honest with himself.

“Jim.” Spock answered, not really expecting this discussion to go anywhere. He took up his grip on the toy again and began to move it gently in and out of his mate. His wonderfully human mate with a thriving libido, who deserved this release after being so good the past two weeks, and after having his special day ruined by the so-named “death nebula”.

“Fuck.” Jim said in defeat, letting his gaze drift to the ceiling as he submitted himself to whatever Spock was going to dole out.

But after several long minutes, Jim was starting to sweat, and to writhe, under Spock's attentions. His ass and cock were over sensitive and his balls ached from the constant sensation, from the drive to release when he'd already cum just minutes before. He was concerned that he couldn't give Spock what he sought. Not after the mind blowing orgasm he'd already had, not in addition to the one in the shower that morning. He was only human. “Fuck, Spock,” he whined in desperation, eyes watering. “I can't.”

“Shh, shh, shh.” Spock whispered, as if calming a small animal or child. “You can, my Jim. It will be alright. Just allow it to happen.”

Jim felt like crying and closed his eyes against the weird emotions Spock always managed to stir in him, feeling utterly devastated and utterly cherished at once; totally unable to cum for Spock as he demanded of his overtaxed body, and wanting fully to just let go and submit himself to Spock's careful ministrations. He shuddered as the toy shifted angles and drove into him more deeply and felt his eyes water as Spock's thumb swiped again and again over the sensitized head of his cock. Taking a deep breath and a deep leap of faith, he simply surrendered himself to Spock's hands and whatever would come of this. Maybe he'd just die. It was an acceptable outcome.

And it was soon after that final surrender that his thighs began to shake and a tremendous pressure burst from him. He made a raw animal grunt with this cum, his whole body totally lax but his ass, his cock, and his balls totally rigid as he ejaculated one last time, feeling both wonderful and almost painful in its intensity. He barely twitched now as Spock continued to play with his sensitive cock for the next minute or so as it slowly, finally deflated. Jim couldn't have moved if he'd tried, and looked up adoringly as he felt Spock begin to clean all the mess from him and put the toy away.

And quietly, reverently, the Vulcan took his human into his arms and kissed him human style on the temple, murmuring Vulcan endearments that Jim was sure to understand in spite of their foreign sound.

“I love you.” Jim said sleepily, snuggling back into Spock's warm arms and strong embrace.

“As I love you.” Spock returned sincerely.


	12. It Begins

Their current activities were really enough to keep them busy for the next several months, with different experiments run and all of the results satisfying. It took them well through the next two missions (though they'd had to cease all bedroom activity while dealing with more pertinent issues), and generally speaking, both men would have said that their sex life was in good shape -- even thriving.

The next star base stop was finally approaching, and it was then that Spock brought up something he hadn't mentioned since the first day of their relationship.

“Fisting.” Jim said incredulously. “Seriously, Spock? That's pretty fucking extreme by human standards.”

“But to touch you... inside.” Spock said. How could he explain the allure of this?

“Well you can't just fist someone.” Jim retorted. “Or have you forgotten how hard it is to get that monster cock Mr. Green inside of me?”

“I am aware. Which is why if we are to endeavour to attempt this we should make use of the star base and purchase supplies.”

“You already have a fist, Mr. Spock.” Jim retorted with a snarky smirk.

“We would obtain a variety of dildos and anal plugs.” he continued, ignoring the remark. “As well as copious amounts of lubrication. Then we could begin anal training over a period of time, working to larger standards.”

Jim bit his bottom lip worriedly. “I don't want... I mean... won't stretching me like that be permanent? I kind of like being at least a little tight.”

“I have looked into this concern extensively.” Spock reassured him. “Without a continual application of larger objects, your rectum will shrink back to its original size. And as long as we take necessary precautions, you should sustain no damage.”

“I can't believe I'm going to say this, but we should tell Bones about this.” Jim admitted, utterly mortified. But he wasn't an idiot. Bones was his primary care physician, and if he was going to do something he thought was less than safe sexually, he had an obligation to let his doctor know about it and take any advice he could get.

Spock didn't like the idea of someone else knowing about their sex life, but he was no idiot either. “Logical.” he admitted reluctantly. Then, “Does that mean that you are amenable to this course of action?”

Jim closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Against my better judgement, perhaps. If Bones doesn't tell me I'll ruin my perfect ass or that I need a psych eval.”

Spock nodded and set about ordering appropriate supplies.

 

 

“So Spock wants to fist me.” Jim came right out and said it as Bones finished pouring them drinks in his private office after hours.

“Jesus Christ. I haven't even started drinking yet.” Bones groused.

Jim looked at him more earnestly this time, and with less snark. Bones' reaction had been priceless, but he'd brought it up for more than laughs. “We're probably going to go through with it.” he said seriously.

Bones stared at him, taking a swallow of his drink. “Are you out of your cotton pickin' mind?” he drawled.

“He's done a lot of research.” Jim tried to reassure them both. “And he wants to go slowly. But you're my doctor, Bones, and it's kind of a risky thing so... I wanted you to know.” he looked away, turning red and rubbing the back of his neck.

McCoy sighed deeply. “You do this on purpose.” he pouted. “You're going to be the death of me. The both of you. What the hell else have you two been doing?”

“You probably don't want to know.” Jim smirked.

“Probably right.” he nodded. He mulled over the situation as they drank in silence. “He's doing research?”

“Yeah... you know Spock. He doesn't like to go into something unprepared.”

He nodded. “I'll forward him some information. I'll forward it to you too, if you want to have a look.”

Jim made a face. “Spare me. Send it to Spock. Look, this isn't going to ruin me, is it? Spock said everything should go back to normal but --”

“Oh gawd. As if anything could ruin your ass.” he rolled his eyes.

“So it'll go back?”

“Christ, Jim...”

“Damn it bones, you're a doctor!”

“I'm a doctor, not a fetishist. But yes, it'll shrink back. The beauty of life and all that, majesty of the human anus. Why are you two fools set on this? Never mind, I really don't want to know any more about your sex life than absolutely necessary.”

Jim snickered into his drink, embarrassed, but pleased that Bones seemed even more so.

“Please tell me you two aren't into other risky shit? I'm scheduling you both for physicals.” he decided and snatched up a PADD.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Totally unnecessary.” Jim panicked.

“Yeah right. What else has been up your ass? Either of you? And what other games have you gotten into?”

“Uhhmm... look I've gotta go....”

“You get back here and fill out this risk assessment sheet --” Bones called after him, pulling up a standard form with a list of high risk sex practices.

“Bye, Bones!” Jim called after him and made his escape, knowing full well that Bones would send the sheet to Spock anyway and Spock would fill it out dutifully even if Jim would avoid it. Well, all the better. Let Spock handle awkward questions with the CMO. Jim had been the one to bring up the fisting, so he figured he'd earned a break.

 

 

 

Jim blinked at his first officer. “This is it?” he questioned. This plug was of higher quality than the original thing Spock had come up with, that was certain. This one was metal while the other had been rubber. And this one was curiously smaller than the last one as well. “The last one was way bigger. I thought we were trying to work up, not down.”

Spock lubed the plug with special lubricant that was unlikely to absorb into the body and worked it into Jim. It would stay there throughout the night. “The last one likely left you with minor tears.” he said blandly.

“I didn't feel anything tearing.”

“Did you feel discomfort?”

“Well yeah I was a little sore in the end but I'm not made of glass, Spock.” he gave a little laugh.

“The difference is that those were one off events. This is a long term process, and I will not risk damaging you. We will work slowly and without discomfort. If there is discomfort, of any sort, I expect you to tell me.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jim said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Spock narrowed his.

“It will be easiest if we do this at night. That way it is unlikely to interfere with any of your duties, or our other sexual activities.”

“What if I want it to interfere?” Jim wiggled enticingly.

“You are incorrigible.”

“You encourage it.”

Spock did not deny it.

“You're sure this'll work?” Jim asked again skeptically.

“Hush. You will not see drastic results for quite some time. It is a process that requires patience.”

“No wonder you want to fist me.” Jim griped.


	13. Blowjob Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've updated this story, but here I am!  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don't give a damn  _what_ you thought, Commander.” Jim rounded on his first officer in their quarters. He was irate. “You do not disrespect me in front of my crew. You do not disobey an order. This is my ship, and I expect to run it.” The mission had been an absolute clusterfuck from the start. And Jim might have been young but he'd made hard decisions in the past and he'd make hard decisions in the future, and it was  _not_ okay for Spock to question those decisions. Not for  _any_ reason. Information he would accept in its raw form. If he'd overlooked something, he wanted to know. But an all out argument,  _on the bridge_ , was out of line. Never mind the precedent set in their early relationship. Jim stepped very close into Spock's personal space as he made his message absolutely clear.

“Yes, Captain.” Spock answered quietly.

“And another thing? I'm going to face danger,  _Commander_ . And this thing you've been doing, trying to protect me? Not okay.”

“Captain, if I may --”

“You may  _not_ . Say what you will about the logical thing to do, Mr. Spock, but the lengths to which you go sometimes are above and beyond the line of duty.”

Spock swallowed thickly, because he  _knew_ Jim was right. “Jim....” he said softly, at a loss.

The recalcitrant tone did have an effect on him. After all, he was only human, and he was madly in love with Spock. But he was still pissed, and still determined to make his point. “Dismissed.” he said hastily, needing space to think, space to cool off.

Spock hesitated to leave. Was he really being told to leave? He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't thought of Jim's quarters as his own. Haltingly, he left through the front door, foregoing their shared bathroom entirely, and retreated back to his own room. Was Jim really that angry with him? Was it on a professional level only, or did it extend into personal space? He was ill equipped to handle these complications, he was quickly learning. He had thought that with his rapport with Jim he could easily meet Jim's emotional needs, and had not calculated accurately his ability (or inability) to separate his professional life from his work life. For his captain was Jim, and Jim his captain. One man who meant everything to him. How was it to be separate? And he'd mistakenly assumed, at the beginning of all of this, that the sexual component would be the biggest hurdle.

Spock sat himself on his meditation mat instinctively, and lost himself in soul searching thoughts for the remainder of his long day. When he emerged from his trance, it was well into the night. He'd heard, distantly, his mate moving within their shared bathroom, readying himself for sleep. He felt an unexpected pang in his heart. Would he be expected to spend the night in his own quarters? It had been months since he'd done so.

Every night without fail they'd worked on their joint goal of anal training. Right now, he would normally be selecting the appropriate size that Jim would wear for the night. If they had extra time or desire, he might gently fuck Jim for a while first, loosening him, and bring him off manually to an orgasm. If they were simply tired, they might be more utilitarian about the exercise. Now what was Jim doing? Their usual pattern, of course, meant nothing to him at the moment. He simply wanted to be in Jim's presence.

He was reluctant to make himself known, but found his feet moving nonetheless. He could not keep away. He entered through their shared bathroom and watched his mate settling into his blankets. Jim regarded him with an unusually difficult to read expression.

“I'm not doing the thing.”  he said flatly.

Spock nodded, looking forlorn.

Jim stared at him a moment, then sighed, and lifted the edge of the sheet in invitation. The relief Spock felt was palpable. He made his way quickly to the bed to lie next to Jim as Jim dialled down the lights, and the room was plunged into darkness and silence. They did not cuddle, but lay perfectly still, barely touching. Spock felt as if there were something he ought to say, but was at a loss. He wanted to do something, anything, to show his affection and devotion to Jim.

And so he decided to do something he'd thought about for a long while, something Jim had not yet permitted him to do. But just now, he felt the circumstance warranted it, and hoped that perhaps Jim would allow him to give this. Without a word he inched down Jim's body and under the sheet, kissing him reverently as he moved -- his chest, his ribs, his stomach. Jim laid very still and silent, not moving or asking for him to stop, and slowly his breathing began to deepen with his arousal, as Spock knew it would.

“Spock.” Jim said quietly, but it wasn't clear to either of them whether it was in question, or in reverence, or in admonishment. Spock paid it no mind and continued to Jim's thighs, then moved to kiss his steadily lengthening cock. When Jim's breath hitched, when his cock firmed just a bit more, Spock was fairly certain he would be allowed to go through with this.

Carefully, he opened his mouth, and mindful of teeth he took Jim within it, sliding down, widening his jaw, and relaxing his throat. He was Vulcan, after all. He need not have done this before to master his gag reflex quite easily. And it seemed that as predicted, Jim was appreciative of his skill, as a deep groan and sigh of relief filled the silent bed when he was fully sheathed. Spock was both worshipful and efficient, learning quickly what techniques best pleased his mate, and directing his energy there. And to Jim's credit, he lasted a good amount of time, simply relaxed and grateful, all of the tension of the day, of their earlier argument, draining away.  It was a cresting of a wave rather than an earthquake this time, and he came languidly down Spock's willing throat, already feeling the first tendrils of sleep taking him.

“God, Spock.” he whispered reverently, stroking his hand through the silky strands of Spock's hair as Spock finished licking the last drops clean.

“Jim.” Spock answered in the same tones, crawling up to lay next to him as Jim folded him in his arms.

“I love you.”  Jim's words suffused Spock in warmth. His apology had been accepted. He doubted he even had needed to apologize in such a way, of course, but he was glad to have done it.

“As I love you.”  he returned. All would be well.

 


	14. Hesitation

They'd stopped using the toys when Jim and Spock had had their initial argument. And although the discussion had come to an amicable close the same night, the following night had not seen a return to their prior routine. There had been a night of reports for both of them, combined with a debriefing with Starfleet command. There had been two nights following that Spock had been caught up in the labs. The night after that, Jim had spent time with McCoy. The night after that, Jim had had a rare instance of gamma shift. And after a good week of no toys, neither of them had brought it up again. Spock, perhaps because he was uncertain whether Jim was interested, and Jim perhaps because of the same, but also because he was still uncertain about this fisting experience, and Spock's determination to stretch him so wide. He'd never been one to flinch from any sexual act, and the fact that this one unnerved him made him both embarrassed and angry at himself -- or at least it would have, were he to give it thought. He tried very hard not to think about it at all.

What had begun as a means of emotional connection between them, this common (or at least semi-common) goal, now felt cold and distant to Jim. He wanted to be  _touched_ , damn it, by real flesh, not by cold steel. And yes, he knew that the eventuality of Spock's fist was meant to be that physical connection, but honestly, he couldn't see what the hell Spock got out of it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to absolutely wreck his hole. And that was what he was afraid of. In spite of both Spock and Bones' assurances, he was afraid it would never go back. And so he was stalling, these days, waiting to see whether if he let himself alone long enough, and then experimented, if he'd still feel as tight as he ever did. 

And then there were the showers to contend with. Jim had  _loved_ their little shower time ritual, but perhaps too much. It scared him, allowing himself to feel so vulnerable like that. Where was Jim Tomcat Kirk? Where was his agency? In any of this? And of course his mind would flit back to Spock's offers for Jim to simply  _use_ him.... But that wasn't his way. He drove himself in circles thinking about it, wondering whether this relationship could really last long term. And he shied away from Spock now, finding excuses to forgo their shower rituals as often as he could without drawing suspicion, though he knew Spock must notice (he was a genius) -- he at least hoped to avoid conversation about it.

He was stuck in a self imposed celibacy for the most part, his mind flitting back to the chastity experiment and thinking it ironic that he'd now use his tolerance Spock had built in him to avoid Spock altogether. He just needed some time to sort himself out.

Spock, for his part,  _did_ notice, of course. He knew Jim's libido. He knew that things which had garnered a positive reaction in the past were now avoided. And he knew that he should talk about it, but he was uncertain what to say. He'd researched all of this -- researched so much of human sexuality in an effort to appease Jim's appetite, to find a way to make this  _work_ ... but what if he could not? It may be logical to discuss the topic openly, but Spock illogically did not want to hear what Jim had to say -- because he was afraid their conversation would end in the same manner that his conversation had ended with Nyota -- with no Nyota in his love life at all. He did not want to similarly lose Jim. He was not content to settle for mere friendship. And so he kept his mouth shut. Perhaps Jim simply needed some space.

The star base was a welcome stop as far as Jim was concerned. It wasn't a “real” shore leave, but they'd be there a good two days to pick up supplies, and the crew would be on rotation to enjoy what there was to enjoy on the base, even if it weren't a proper shore leave destination. Jim had been wound tightly lately and was relieved when Bones and Scotty invited him to a bar, and he didn't even think to ask Spock. After all, Spock was who he'd been avoiding.

“ You come here often, soldier?” a woman with purple skin and indigo hair asked Jim casually over his drink. He smirked slyly at the pick-up line and sipped his drink as she sipped hers. He scanned the room and realized Bones and Scotty were both occupied with partners they'd apparently secured for the night, and he'd been alone for some time, lost to his thoughts.

“No, just here for some supplies.” he said easily, not really engaging, but not shutting her down harshly either.

“Really?” she faked incredulity and scrutiny, “I could have sworn I'd seen you here before.” she smiled enticingly at him, leaning back against the bar to display all her curves -- not that much was left to the imagination in that getup.

Jim raised a skeptical brow. Pick up line, or did she just recognize him from the news? No matter, either way.

“But then, I'm sure if you'd been here before we would have met.” she continued smoothly. “I wouldn't have overlooked you.” She reached a hand out to gently grasp his forearm, and he looked at it, letting it linger there. He was more than a little buzzed by now by whatever this pink stuff was, and he felt the welcome heat of her palm and saw that same heat reflected in her eyes.  And he  _knew_ she was a bad idea. But he didn't make her leave. Not when she pulled out a stool and sidled up next to him. Not when she got them both drinks of some more pink stuff. Not when she continued to converse idly with him, laughing often and touching more often. It was just...  _nice_ . Nice to know someone  _wanted_ him. Because she made her intentions very clear in her every flirt.

“... why don't you come back to my place and I'll show you?” Jim caught the tail end of whatever she'd been saying, and knew that however the conversation had started, it was ending with a proposition. He read her loud and clear. And he hesitated.

God he wanted to. He felt an itch under his skin to go with her. He was tipsy and his dick was hard and he hadn't gotten off properly in days, and he hadn't had a truly equal partner in longer. He could have her. She was  _right there_ . But there was Spock.

Always Spock.

He couldn't believe he'd even hesitated, and let her down easy, and could see her disappointment, and could feel his own disappointment as well, and also frustration and anger and desperation and a sort of hopeless struggle.

He walked into the night air and pulled out his comm: “One to beam up.”

And he walked through the halls of the ship, and into Spock's room where he was already in bed, in pyjamas and with a PADD. For a moment, they both stared at one another, Jim close to tears and half drunk, and Spock curious and confused. Where had his mate been? He'd worried about what his absence had meant all night.

“I need you.” Jim said with quiet desperation, staring him in the eyes for a moment before turning and walking into their shared bathroom. He stripped and started the shower, and felt an immense wash of relief as Spock joined him without comment.

In turmoil he simply held Spock for a while under the hot spray, face buried against Spock's neck, and his hard dick apparent to them both. Gently, Spock turned him enough to get a grip of it, and began his most tender, loving attention that he could possibly muster, and hoped it would be enough. He tried to project all his love into his mate, feeling the rolling emotions from Jim of helpless confusion and desperation, a desire for this to work, and no idea how. His hand came up to wipe away Jim's stray tears and Jim lovingly kissed his palm, drawing a sudden intake of breath from Spock at the sensation against his sensitive hand.

Encouraged by Jim's passivity under his attentions, Spock did as he chose, and pressed his first two fingers into the warm wetness of Jim's mouth, and Jim immediately began to suckle, first passively, then reverently, as Spock continued to bring him closer to orgasm. Throwing aside his concerns about vulnerability (made easier because of the alcohol) Jim simply swam in the sensations Spock wrought in him, the strong arms surrounding him, and let Spock run the show, let Spock fuck his mouth even it were only fingers, imagining that maybe one day it would be Spock's honest-to-god cock, if they could make it as far as  _pon farr_ .

And he was so wrapped up in his own climax when it came, that he almost didn't notice Spock's own shudder around him, Spock's own quiet moan and hitch of breath as Jim continued to suck, moaning around the digits in his own passion. But when his own climax finished and his head began to clear, he realized that Spock, too, was struggling to regain himself, and he turned to look at him questioningly. “Did you just --” But he  _couldn't have_ ... could he?

“I believe so.” Spock stated simply, and it hung there between them: a revelation.

“From just the fingers?” Jim said wonderingly, grabbing Spock's hand and turning it for inspection, as if it held secrets he had yet to learn.

“From a combination of factors. The digital stimulation of course produced a strong physical reaction within me -- on both hands, I might add, though in different manners. The reality of me pleasuring you. The reality of you sucking me. Your passivity. Your own arousal, which I could sense strongly through our skin. A sense of our combined love.” he explained as best he could, what had triggered in him his first  _ever_ orgasmic experience. Only Spock, perhaps, could psychoanalyse such a thing within himself so soon after its occurrence.

“So the fisting thing --”

“Would hopefully be mutually satisfying.”

Jim took that in and turned it over. “I didn't know.”

Spock hadn't been certain it would result in something this profound, himself. It was incidental to satisfying his human. Jim's libido needed outlet; Spock's did not. But he was aware now, skin to skin, that knowledge of his own arousal heightened Jim's own  _significantly_ . 

Jim finished his shower quickly, Spock following behind, and when they entered Jim's quarters that night, Jim took out the box of toys without a word, and gave a hesitant but expectant look to Spock. Spock wasn't certain if this was a temporary truce or if it were truly a new dedication, but he would take it. It seemed their relationship was far from over, and he was immensely relieved. Selecting a plug a size down from their last attempt, he began to prepare Jim again.


	15. Slow Hand Job

Jim took slow deep breaths. Spock's hand was around the base of his dick, and wasn't moving. His cock pulsed, and pulsed again. What the hell was Spock  _doing_ ? Why wouldn't he move? And for that matter, what was he doing with Jim's cock in his hand?

Jim's ass, meanwhile, was stretched wide around the dildo they  _had_ been focusing on, with the goal of fisting still in mind. Jim had already broken out in a sweat over that and was certain he could come from the anal stimulation alone if Spock would just move the damn toy again. Or if it was to be a regular orgasm, maybe he could just move that hand for a few seconds.

“Spock.” Jim gasped as Spock's hand travelled millimetre by millimetre up the shaft at a snail's pace, his eyes focused on his work as if it were some scientific experiment. And to Spock, perhaps it was.

“Yes, Jim.”

“What the hell are you doing down there?”

“I had thought it would be obvious.” He stopped his movement, hand on the centre of the shaft now, and squeezed slightly harder. The cock pulsed in his grip in return. Jim moaned in frustration and tried to wriggle. All that did was send sparks of pain/pleasure through his widely stretched anus. He clenched instinctively around the toy and moaned again -- a short breath of noise that was as much desperation as pleasure.

Spock released Jim altogether, then wet his thumb in his mouth. Jim's cock swayed in the open air, seeking any friction. Spock wrapped his fingers around the shaft, just below the head -- one finger at a time, first with a gentle grip, then slowly snugging to a firmer hold. He stroked down just once, agonizingly slowly, to the base, then held still as Jim shuddered, then bucked up uselessly. When Jim had settled, he stroked just as slowly to the tip, and swirled his moistened thumb over the sensitive head. Jim made a sharp, choked sound, and Spock was pleased with the result. Carefully, meticulously, he swirled his thumb around, and around, and around, taking a leisurely pace. For all Spock was tranquil, Jim thrashed beneath him, breathing as if he were running a marathon.

When Jim's struggles seemed to reach a frenzy, Spock once again stopped all motion, just for a minute, just long enough for Jim's straining hips to lower back to the bed, for his breathing to even out slightly, then he jacked Jim's cock in a blur of frenzied motion.

Jim's mind could not even process the abrupt change at first and he froze at the sensation, before he gasped for breath and let out a howl of pleasure, straining upward into Spock's lightning fast grasp. But just as quickly as it came, the motion came to an abrupt halt, Spock's hand flying away from the cock entirely, leaving it throbbing in the air, a bead of precum at its tip, and an angry red in colour.

“Fuck.” Jim let his head flop back into the pillow. “Is this strictly necessary?” he questioned.

“Negative.” Spock answered, then drew a single finger along the shaft from base to tip. Then repeated the motion, base to tip again. Every time he reached the top, Jim's cock bent slightly toward him, as if seeking more instinctively, but the touch would be withdrawn only to begin again.  When he thought Jim was about to complain again, he withdrew his touch and moved his hand back to the dildo, rocking it in and out slowly once more, tracing a finger idly around the swollen, stretched flesh surrounding the toy. He could feel the stretched skin twitch slightly, but as he moved persistently in and out, the muscles inevitably gave way and became relaxed, and accordingly Jim's breathing deepened as he let himself drift in the sensations he'd become so used to these past days. A soft sound of contentment escaped him as he felt the intrusion filling him and stretching him, a gentle pressure without pain. 

Carefully, Spock eased the toy in a bit deeper, and Jim grunted a moment at the sensation, but closed his eyes and tried not to think about how much was actually invading him. Inch by inch Spock watched with fascination and approval as it disappeared into his mate. He shuddered in his own detached sort of arousal. It was very pleasing to see Jim spread so passively before him, trusting him implicitly. He rocked the toy within him, front to back, side to side, and found the angle that caused Jim to give a soft grunt of approval.

With just his fingertips, he encircled Jim's cock once more, drawing them from base to tip and then off. Base to tip. Base to tip. Abandoning the toy again, he formed two loose fists, and drew Jim's cock through the bottom of one fist, pressing it from tip to base, then following with his other hand. Tip to base and again and again, as if Jim were somehow fucking into a never-ending hole, inward and inward with no end. When Jim's thighs began to shake, Spock could not contain his smug smirk. He released the cock and pressed his thumb just so, into Jim's perineum, stimulating the prostate externally. With firm pressure he rubbed around and around as Jim moaned, his cock now leaking steadily with need. Jim clenched wildly around the toy but it was no use, no relief. He thrust his hips and met air.

Spock's other hand moved to gently tug on Jim's balls, rolling them, caressing them, tugging them slightly this way and that. He moved his thumb to rub that peculiar place way at the base of Jim's cock, right where it met his balls, and Jim keened with pleasure. Releasing him again, he moved to draw Jim's foreskin only up over the head, then down over the frenulum, and back, retracting then restoring the loose flesh as Jim squirmed for something more.

Taking pity on him, Spock once again gripped him firmly and began to stroke with a purpose, steadily and building to a blurring speed as Jim preferred it once more, thumbing the head all the while. Jim almost couldn't  _believe_ when his orgasm hit him, so certain that Spock would keep him in agony forever. He almost didn't process his release fully until halfway through it, as his straining hips finally gave in and fell twitching back to the bed, cum dripping everywhere. Spock carefully milked him of the last drops as he caught his breath, and released him to clean them both of the mess.

He moved his hand back to the dildo and began moving it in and out once more, pleased that it moved much more easily after Jim had relaxed in orgasm.

“What... what are you doing?” Jim asked groggily.

“I believe we will move up a size.” Spock said matter-of-factly, and pulled the toy out in an unpleasant rush, leaving Jim spasming and gaping around open air as Spock lubed up the next sized plug.

“You're kidding me.” Jim said breathlessly.

“Negative.” returned his Vulcan, as Jim gave in to the inevitable and lay his head back down in contentment. At least he had his afterglow to bask in as Spock steadily worked the intruder into his pliant backside. And at least Spock had stopped with the teasing. For now.


	16. Another Kind of Hand Job

Jim lay sated in their bed, curled against Spock. Their fingers were laced as their hands rested on Spock's chest, and Jim played with them idly in his post orgasm langor. Vulcan fingers, Jim thought, were fascinating. Ever since Spock had had his possible orgasm in the shower, Jim's mind had been on it. Suddenly Vulcan finger kisses made so much more sense. Pairing his first and second finger, Jim drew the tips along Spock's own, tip to joint, along the backs, then back to the tips and around the front, twisting and slipping in a steady, hypnotic dance. Spock's eyes sparked with amusement and affection as he turned to regard his mate, as if to say _I know exactly what you are doing_. But it wasn't long until Spock engaged in the dance as well. Humans weren't the only species to enjoy making out.

Once Spock had taken over the rhythm of the finger kisses, Jim allowed himself to lean in for a human-style press of lips. It was uncoordinated at first, trying to maintain both styles of kissing without getting sloppy or awkward, but Jim was more than eager to practise, and between their joint efforts he was satisfied that they managed. Soon, his breathing was less steady as his kisses deepened and lengthened. He worked his mouth over Spock’s jaw sloppily, then raised their tangled fingers to his lips.

Jim kissed Spock’s knuckles and fingers reverently with plush, moist lips slightly parted. The light green blush gracing Spock’s cheeks was entirely enchanting. But he wanted more. Soon his tongue came out to lick the length of Spock’s two first fingers, and he grinned when he heard Spock’s breath hitch at the sensation. He curled his tongue around the gently sucked them into his mouth, fellating them as skillfully as he could manage, as if they were a real cock in his mouth. His tongue dipped into the webbing at the base of the fingers and his mouth suctioned around them. Jim bobbed on them and swallowed them as deeply as he could, ignoring the threat of his gag reflex. All the while, his eyes met Spock’s, whose were slitted narrowly in pleasure.

Gently, Jim let his teeth scrape over the sensitive digits, bumping over knuckles before soothing the scrape with his tongue. Not too roughly on such a sensitive area. The gamble paid off as well, written in every tense line of Spock’s body, the haze of pleasure shifting his usually stoic visage into something gorgeous and precious to him. Jim was sure no one else had ever seen Spock like this, and he was greedy for more.

Jim snaked his free hand down to Spock’s where it was tangled against the sheets, gripping for control. Control right now wouldn’t do at all. It was inelegant, but he tangled the fingers of their free hands together, rubbing little circles with his thumb wherever he could touch while his mouth continued its work. Meanwhile, Jim tried to remember what components had led to Spock’s revelation in the shower that night. It wasn’t merely the physical sensation, but the shared arousal, and the shared emotions between them. He wasn’t a skilled telepath but he knew roughly how to project, and he tried to allow every ounce of arousal and adoration shine through while he continued to work Spock.

Hungrily, he drew a third finger into his mouth, stretching his mouth wider and giving a clear visual of what he might look like gagging on cock instead. The image certainly worked for Jim at least. Though he’d already come earlier that night, his cock was rigid once more, rubbing against Spock’s hip. He moaned and let his eyes drift shut for a moment as he pictured what it would be like to be between Spock’s legs one day, sucking him off. He moaned around the fingers stuffing his mouth and heard Spock draw his own shuddering breath as he shivered from head to toe.

Jim’s eyes snapped open at the sudden shift in energy between them. It wasn’t like a proper orgasm -- or at least any Jim had been familiar with up to that point. But then, he’d never dated a Vulcan before, never dated Spock. This full body tremble, subtle and short-lived as it was, was unique. Special. He suckled gently as Spock stilled and drew in steadying breaths, looking at him with wonder. Jim didn’t have to ask. It was clear between them -- Spock had more or less come from the sensations, or at least as much as he possibly could while impotent. The idea of it was utterly intoxicating to Jim. This was definitely not a one sided relationship, he was coming to realize. It was different, but it was definitely mutual, if only he kept an open mind.

“Good?” he asked, drawing gently off Spock’s fingers.

“Yes.” Spock answered softly. Reverently. He reached his hand back down toward Jim’s newly erected cock, but Jim grasped his wrist to stop him.

“You got me off earlier.” he said with a small smile. “I’m good.”

Spock looked slightly doubtful. “If you are certain....” he said hesitantly.

Jim grinned and rolled closer, flinging half his body casually over Spock’s, draping him in his typical octopus fashion. “Definitely.”

 


	17. Mind Sex

They’d melded twice thus far. When Spock had gotten the full story out of Jim about how his elder counterpart had melded with him on Delta Vega, he hadn’t been pleased. He’d conceded to the logic and necessity of the moment, but they’d then had a Very Long Talk about how intimate a gesture it was for Vulcans. Jim _had_ tried to point out that their counterparts had been bonded and so it wasn’t as intimate and weird as it might have been for most strangers. He’d quickly learned that that argument was a great way to really annoy his boyfriend.

And so, after a painful and tedious Very Long Talk, it was only logical that they meld. It was of course Jim who suggested it first. “If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you just meld with me too and stake your claim or whatever?”

“There is no claim to be staked.” Spock answered in irritation. “Jim, have you not been listening to a single thing I’ve told you about how the meld works? This is not a bond we’d be initiating, _if_ we were to share such a gesture.”

“I’m not asking to bond with you!” Jim flailed his arms a bit and rolled his eyes at his ridiculous partner. Spock stiffened slightly and Jim sighed in frustration. “Well not _now_.” he amended. “Like right this second. I’m asking you to meld with me because it obviously bothers you that Old Spock did it and because you’re my boyfriend and I love you and it’s supposed to be really intimate and nice and I want to. Do you?”

Spock stared at him for a moment, struck mute with indecision. He _had_ thoroughly tried to impress upon Jim how intimate and serious a gesture the meld was. Assuming that Jim had actually paid attention and understood... it was very touching that he’d still ask to share in the gesture. “I... Yes.”

“Well then.” Jim said, smiling softly and reaching out to gently grasp Spock’s hand. He placed it clumsily on his own face, holding it against his cheek and temple. “I trust you.”

Spock adjusted his fingers slightly, and they’d fallen into one another as if they’d always belonged.

 

The second time, Spock had been shy about asking for it. But now that he’d melded with his mate, he craved more of it. He’d grown used to the loneliness in his own mind, but now that he had the option... he certainly preferred connection. He’d brought it up only after Jim had been thoroughly satiated, lying in bed beside him and drifting to sleep as Spock stroked his face and pet his hair. “Jim.” he asked softly. Nearly too softly to be heard, because asking was awkward. But Jim had still been awake.

“Hm?”

“I was wondering....” Spock hesitated.

Jim’s eyes had fluttered open. “What is it, Spock? You don’t have to worry about asking me for something.” Jim felt Spock stroke his fingers over temple and cheek... meld points, he realized, and comprehension dawned as he watched Spock struggle to ask for something so personal. Spock had difficulty in asking for _anything_.

Jim smiled warmly and held Spock’s hand in place as he had before. “Go ahead, babe.” he said gently. “Whenever you want. You don’t have to ask. I’ll never say no.”

Spock’s eyes widened in wonder. The things Jim was saying were dangerously close to bonding, but surely the human couldn’t know what effect the words would have on him, how they’d be interpreted. For now though, he was happy to save that discussion for later. For now, he adjusted the placement of his fingers and fell into Jim.

Outside of their mindscape, Jim retained enough of himself in those first moments to lean in and press a kiss to Spock’s soft lips. The reverberations through the meld were transcendent. Before he was swept into the total experience of _Spock_ , Jim had a fraction of a second to contemplate the implications this might have for future meld sex.

 

“Does it always go that deep?” Jim was asking Spock. He’d been peppering his Vulcan with questions about how the meld worked for the past fifteen minutes.

“There are varying levels of depth to it.” Spock said ambiguously. That answered precisely nothing. Jim rolled his eyes and Spock retaliated with a flat look of his own. “Exactly what are you trying to ascertain? Without a more specific question, I cannot be expected to give a more specific answer.”

“Meld sex.” Jim pronounced emphatically.

Spock raised a brow at him and waited patiently for more.

“Oh come on, Spock. You have to have considered it. Do Vulcans even do that? Can they? Because I don’t know about you, but I usually lose track of my body entirely when we’re melded. Not that we’ve melded that much, really. Only the two times. Which, by the way, we should do way more often. But also maybe while having sex.”

“As I’ve explained to you on previous occasions, _t’hy’la,”_ Spock said with a faint blush, “Sexual relations are rarely ever discussed in my culture. I can assure you that I haven’t the slightest idea whether melding is normally practised during sexual activities. Though I am to understand that it happens at times during the _pon farr_ , but as you’ve said, at such a time experience of the body may be entirely secondary.”

“You’d better not send me into some meld coma during your _pon farr_.” Jim admonished him strongly. “I intend to experience every second of my body when we finally get there.”

“Yes, Jim.” Spock said flatly, barely restraining himself from an eye roll.

“And stop changing the subject.” Jim interjected with a stern finger jab. “I want to know if we can have meld sex and still feel our bodies.”

“We can certainly find out.” Spock said amiably.

“Wait, really?” Jim asked with renewed excitement.

“I do not see why not.” Spock said neutrally, as if they were discussing the weather. He tilted his head thoughtfully. “If I take proper care I should be able to initiate a very shallow meld in which we both receive some perception of each other’s experiences while maintaining awareness of our physical sensations. A curious idea. Indeed,”

Spock obviously could have gone on about the academic merits of the suggestion at length, but Jim shut him up in a hurry by pulling off his shirt and throwing it over Spock’s head.

“I take it this means you’d like to try now.”

“Less talking, more melding.” Jim instructed him, shimmying out of his pants and moving into the sleeping alcove to lie on the bed, pleased that Spock bemusedly followed after him. After a moment’s hesitation, Spock began peeling his clothes off as well. He still maintained there was little logic in it when the focus was on Jim’s body, but Jim had stated a preference for their mutual nudity and Spock had been getting better about joining him. Although sometimes it was still pleasant to cause Jim to squirm at the imbalance.

Jim watched Spock undress with a heated gaze, his cock already well on its way to full erection. He dug around in the bedside table for a tube of lubricant with only half an eye on what he was doing, so distracted was he by a far more enticing view. “Oh man, there are so many things we could try. What do you want to do first?”

Jim grinned when he saw Spock pull Mister Green out of their toy box. What had once been a tremendous challenge to fit inside him now had grown to be one of Jim’s favourite toys. Thanks to their frequent anal play, Jim had become accustomed to both the considerable length and girth of the toy. In fact, now he often craved it. He watched as Spock settled next to him on the bed and began lubing up the toy as Jim already began working two of his own fingers into his hole.

Before long, Spock was steadily thrusting Mister Green in and out of Jim as Jim struggled for air, or orgasm, or something. Anything. He was soaked in sweat and dangerously close to coming if either one of them touched his cock for half a second. “Not... not that I don’t love this.” he cut off to moan and tremble. “But aren’t we supposed to be melding?”

“Melding and fucking.” Spock corrected in that prim and proper voice of his. Jim shivered at how impossibly hot it was to hear his proper Vulcan say such a vulgar word.

“Right. That. And not that I don’t love this. I do. Love this. But I want your fingers in my mouth when we meld.”

Spock’s eyes darkened with desire, and he left the dildo buried to the hilt in Jim’s ass as he crawled up the bed to settle against him, his right hand taking up the meld position while Jim pulled Spock’s left hand to his mouth. Two long digits were immediately enveloped in wet heat.

Spock’s concentration wavered, and initiating the meld was more challenging than he’d anticipated. It took some finesse to adjust the intensity of it, to assure himself that both he and Jim were able to feel their own bodies as well as each others through their mental link. And the effect was phenomenal.

Of course Spock had felt what Jim felt before through a basic skin to skin link, but the meld was infinitely more intimate and exact. He could feel the toy buried in Jim to the hilt, and it felt nothing like the few times Jim had fingered his own ass. The arousal was immense and his channel was so full, stretched and heavy with need.

And there was Jim. Once he’d acclimated himself to the experience, he couldn’t believe the sparks of pleasure igniting over Spock’s sensitive fingers as he sucked them further into his mouth. He moaned with need and felt his own arousal spike at the dual sensations. He redoubled his efforts and felt his ass flex on the toy buried inside of him, seeking more friction, just that last bit to push him over the edge.

Meld sex, he now knew, had been a fantastic idea. He never could have guessed what sort of pleasure Spock could receive through just his hands. And the arousal feedback loop was intoxicating. When he actually did come, it almost caught him by surprise, sweeping him up in a wave that he was uncertain whether originated in himself or within Spock. They shuddered and moaned in climax as one.

 

When Jim finally blinked back to reality, his cum was drying on his belly and the sheets and Spock had finally pulled both his hands back to himself. “Wow.” he said hazily.

“Indeed.” Spock agreed, struggling to get his own bearings for once. So that was what orgasm really felt like. It was different from the crescendos of a sort he’d been able to achieve from digital stimulation at times. Much more powerful and all encompassing. He wondered at what exactly to expect from his eventual _pon farr_. It staggered the mind.

His focus came back in full as Jim hissed in discomfort while stretching to reach some tissues for the mess. Spock reached down to carefully extract Mister Green. He was entranced by how Jim’s ass flexed around the toy as if reluctant to let it go. In spite of being totally soft now as he cleaned himself up, Jim gave a small moan at the friction of the toy leaving him, and his ass clenched futilely around emptiness.

Curiously, Spock pressed two of his fingers into the yielding hole, then three. They both shuddered at the delicious sensation. “Not that I’m not all for this,” Jim stuttered as he tried to catch his breath. “But I’m tapped out for the moment.”

“I was merely curious.” Spock said, reluctantly pulling his fingers free. He eagerly anticipated later that night when they’d get out the graduated anal plugs again. “It will not be long until you are able to take my fist.”

Jim shuddered an anticipation. “One thing at a time, _t’hy’la_.” Jim grinned. “And we only just tried meld sex. Which by the way: ten out of ten, would do again.”

“Agreed.”

 


	18. Fisting

They’d meant to build up to fisting, and schedule it in at a specific time when Spock decided Jim was ready. They would plan it in advance, discuss it beforehand, have everything ready. But that wasn’t how it wound up happening at all. Instead, it happened on an evening like any of the rest.

Jim had worn the largest anal plug through the night for the past two nights, and here it was close to bed time again and Spock was working three fingers in and out of his stretched hole which squelched with lube. Jim moaned and let his legs fall open even further to accommodate the stretch as Spock slipped a fourth finger in. “God, that feels incredible, Spock.” he breathed, lightly stroking his own cock and losing himself to the sensation. He wasn’t in any hurry to get off at the moment, but he knew he would. He didn’t always come from their pre-sleep play but he did more and more often of late.

“Is there any discomfort?” Spock asked curiously as he pressed his fingers in a bit more deeply, twisting them carefully around. Jim was so relaxed and pliant, and it was intoxicating the way he simply continued to yield. There was practically no resistance at all.

“No.” Jim breathed deeply, feeling a bit floaty at the moment. That happened sometimes when he was able to really let go. And right now they’d been star mapping for days, and he didn’t have an ounce of stress in mind or body. This moment with Spock buried deep inside of him was perfect. “Just full. Perfect.” he mumbled.

Spock flexed his fingers, and then pulled out just enough to douse his hand in more lube and tuck in his thumb. He began working the cone of his hand against the stretched rim of Jim’s ass, twisting, nudging, but never forcing. Jim’s thighs trembled, then a last little bit of tension seemed to slip away and Spock’s eyes widened as he realized the widest part of his hand was pressing inward. His eyes flicked up in alarm to seek out Jim’s, wondering whether Jim were okay with how things were proceeding but not wanting to panic him. Jim looked utterly devastating at the moment though -- eyes closed and mouth open in pleasure as he groaned and bore down.

Barely containing his own arousal, Spock carefully eased his hand past that widest juncture, and then as if by magic, Jim’s rim fluttered closed again around his wrist.

“Ohhhhhhh fuck.” Jim groaned, arching a bit off the bed as his arse clenched rhythmically around Spock’s fist. Inside of him, Spock carefully curled his fingers and remained still. “Jesus Christ. That’s your whole... that’s....”

“Yes.” Spock answered, in awe. He swallowed thickly. “Is there any discomfort?”

“Fuck no.” Jim answered, flexing again. His fist tightened a bit on his cock as he continued to slowly stroke himself without aim.

Emboldened, Spock squirted more lube on his wrist and forearm, and very carefully began to rock, in and out, and side to side. Minute movements, afraid that at any moment he would do some damage, that there would be some pain.... But there was only tremendous pleasure ricocheting between them. Jim’s body, quite simply, was more than ready for it.

He even briefly unfurled his hand inside of Jim, his fingers carefully stroking the sensitive walls that fluttered wildly around him as Jim writhed and moaned. It took all of his Vulcan control not to lose himself in the sensations as Jim did. Jim was hot and wet, silky and so alive around him. Spock maintained the utmost care and control as he was privileged enough to witness Jim totally fall apart for him. The sounds that he wrung from his _t’hy’la_ were more raw and wanton than anything he’d heard before.

When Jim finally spilled his seed into his fist, it was nearly an afterthought. He’d barely been stroking himself, entirely wrapped up in the sensations in his ass as Spock’s arm worked deeper and deeper into him. When he finally came, he clenched rhythmically around the impossible size, nearly sobbing his release while Spock fucked him through it.

Spock barely contained his own full body shudders as pleasure sparked through him as well, both physical and mental through their shared contact. It was more incredible than he’d imagined it would be.

 

With gentle care, Spock extracted himself from Jim’s over-stretched, well-used hole. It winked at the open air, still fucked wide and gaping. It would take a little while before it could close up again.

For now, though, Spock knew he had responsibilities to see to. He cleaned himself efficiently before setting to cleaning Jim, setting aside any toys and tubes of lube they’d used in their play. He knew after such a physically taxing experience Jim’s endorphins would be flooding his system, and that he could become easily chilled, dehydrated, or emotional. His blood sugar might dip. And so he bundled Jim in a blanket and helped him take a few sips of water, eat a few bites of one of the granola bars Jim always had stashed around his quarters. And while Jim continued to float and drift, they simply cuddled.

“You were incredible, _t’hy’la_.” Spock murmured into Jim’s hair, not expecting any acknowledgement or response.

“Mm.” Jim mumbled incoherently back and went silent. Spock almost suspected he’d drifted off to sleep, until he spoke again. “We should do that again some time.” he said sleepily, and Spock tightened his arms just a bit more around him.

 


	19. Massage

“Jim.” Spock said meaningfully, his eyes softening as he saw his mate. Spock laid on his own bed for a change, dressed in his soft pyjamas that were usual for this time of night. What wasn’t usual, however, was the fact that he was in his own quarters, or that he’d just gotten there at 23:00 hours. Or the small green cut still marring his lower lip. Or the myriad of small scrapes and bruises Jim knew to be dotted over his perfect body. It had been a hellish day.

But more than the small wounds adorning his Vulcan, Jim knew that the main damage came from just how much Spock had overextended himself on the mission. He drove himself to work twice as hard as the rest of the crew -- to run twice as fast, lift twice as much. The rescue mission was a success, but Jim had read Spock’s medical report and knew he’d been ordered a mandatory three days of bed rest to recuperate.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bones had released you from sickbay?” Jim admonished, scooting himself onto the bed and pressing the gentlest kiss to Spock’s lips, careful to prevent the small cut from re-opening.

“Doctor McCoy is a rather unyielding individual.” Spock said without inflection, but Jim smirked at the distaste he imagined colouring Spock’s words. “He would have preferred I stay in sickbay but I convinced him that I would restrict myself to my bed in my own quarters.”

“You should have called me.” Jim insisted. “And why not come over to my room?”

“ _T’hy’la_....” Spock said with a fond exasperation.

“Spock I _do_ know how to keep my hands to myself.” Jim insisted, and Spock looked at him flatly. “Okay well I can t least keep my dick in my pants.” he said with a grin. “We don’t have to do anything strenuous. Let me just help you relax.”

Spock hesitated, considering. “I did give my word to Doctor McCoy....”

“Fine. You stay here and don’t move a muscle.” Jim said, already bounding to their shared bathroom door. “I mean it!” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back!”

 

Jim tumbled back into the room with his arms full a few minutes later. Spock had heard the tell tale sounds of Jim’s nightly routine, but couldn’t discern much else of what Jim had been up to in his quarters. Now he saw Jim making his way to the bed in only his boxers, a stack of spare towels in his arms as well as several bottles. Spock knit his brow in curiosity as he tried to discern what the bottles contained.

“Massage oil.” Jim said with a grin, guessing Spock’s thoughts.

“Do I want to know why you own partially used bottles of massage oil?” Spock asked with a quirk of his lips.

“Probably not.” Jim answered. The Time Before Spock was not spoken of. Vulcans were possessive by nature and Jim couldn’t bring up those parts of his past without a Vulcan Death Scowl at the very least.

He plopped his supplies down on the side of the bed, then pulled the sheets away from Spock and off the bed as Spock weakly protested. “Come on. Off with the clothes and lay on your front.” he encouraged, already reaching for the bottom of Spock’s shirt.

“Jim, I assure you this is entirely unnecessary.”

“Of course it’s necessary.” Jim answered. “Please? I want to. I promise you’ll like it and if you don’t we’ll stop.”

Spock winced at the difficulty of raising his arms enough to remove his shirt, and considered the theraputic benefits of a massage. Still, he was uncertain why Jim would want to bother himself with it when Spock simply could not reciprocate tonight. The irony of his discomfort about the inequality of it all was not lost on him, and so he obediently helped shimmy out of the rest of his clothes and arranged himself on the bed with a sigh. Only once he was spread out did he realize just how tired and sore he was. The reports he’d been attending to could wait until tomorrow.

Jim settled himself astride Spock’s hips, careful that his Vulcan was comfortable before he began. Outward damage was minimal, but Jim still traced the faint marks with gentle fingers, thinking _what if_. It was a line of thinking he often had to fight within this line of work. Danger was inherent. That didn’t make it any easier to contend with.

“Let me know if you don’t like how this one smells.” Jim warned Spock, cracking the seal on one of the bottles. “It’s my favourite but I have like three other half used bottles here if you have a preference.”

Spock wrinkled his nose but sighed in acquiescence. All human scents that he’d encountered were strong and strange. It was something he’d gotten used to over time, and he was amused to note that Jim found his incense to be entirely overpowering, whereas Spock thought the smoke to be subtle and pleasant. At any rate, the slightly fruity scent that wafted into the air was hardly the worst he’d encountered.

What was better than the scent, however, was Jim’s touch. Spock immediately melted at the first strokes of Jim’s palms across his back. He sighed and oozed into the bed, though muscles tensed and twitched without his conscious control.

“You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.” Jim murmured to him as he worked. The evidence of Spock’s hard work was etched in every stiff muscle and sore spot that flinched under his probing thumbs. It made him all the more determined to ease the discomfort as he worked steadily across Spock’s body.

“It was necessary.” Spock answered quietly, heaving a deep breath of contentment as his tension slowly drained away. This was new for them, something they’d never done for one another before. And it was nice. Intimate without being expressly sexual, though he supposed it was somewhat sexual as well. He could sense the fire smouldering under Jim’s skin where they touched, though there was a distance to it at the moment, as if Jim considered his own arousal to be unimportant. An afterthought.

Spock had harboured tremendous anxiety about Jim’s libido and their sex life at the start of their relationship. Could he possibly satisfy a mate with such different needs than himself? He was determined to make it work, and it did seem to be working, but of course he continued to have doubts. Worries.

But even tonight, while Jim was so clearly aroused and pressed subtly against his thigh at the moment, there was contentment coming off him in waves. Spock had nothing to offer him here and now, and it was fine. This connection was enough. Above all, he sensed love.

Jim stared down adoringly at his Vulcan. Spock’s breathing had deepened and evened over time and now he laid pliant beneath him, a green-tinged puddle on the bed. He was perfect. Precious. Jim felt privileged just to be allowed this close to the man, and he knew in that moment that he’d do anything to make this thing between them work. It was worth it.

 


	20. What it Means to Use

Jim’s tongue dipped into Spock’s mouth again. And again. Honestly, he could make out with his Vulcan the rest of the night and be satisfied, though he did hope there would be more to it than that. He held himself above Spock with one arm as he languidly ground his hard cock against the hollow of Spock’s hip. Sex had been stilted and awkward at first, those months ago. Then a bit more natural over time, but still planned. Now, _now_ things were in that sweet spot, where they simply flowed.

These kisses were just how Jim preferred them. Wet, and messy, and consuming. He knew that societal convention was that kisses should be smaller, dryer, more restrained perhaps. But fuck that. He wanted to devour his partner. He wanted sexy to be messy and inelegant, and he was thrilled that Spock seemed willing to accommodate him in this with enthusiasm. Spock sucked on his tongue and bit at his lips and it was marvellous.

Spock reached between them and Jim grinned as he felt a slick palm wrap around his cock. He’d been so caught up in making out he hadn’t noticed Spock go for the lube. His clever Vulcan, multi-tasking. He groaned and thrust into Spock’s loose palm, which soon pulled away from him as Spock shifted around. Jim let himself be rearranged, curious where this was heading. He pressed his forehead to Spock’s and took a moment to catch his breath as he felt Spock snug his thighs around Jim’s cock. The slick appendage easily rocked against Spock’s taint and against his crack. He thrust instinctively, moaning with the pleasure of it.

This here was the closest he’d come yet to actually fucking Spock as he’d done with partners in his past, and it was intoxicating. If he closed his eyes and simply _felt_ , Spock’s tight heat all around him could simulate any hole he’d penetrated before. Nearly. Almost. “Jesus, Spock.” Jim breathed as he rocked gently. “You drive me crazy.” He leaned in to capture Spock’s mouth with his own once again before he could give any response. One wasn’t needed.

“You can if you’d like to.” Spock murmured against his lips after another long moment of kissing and languid thrusting.

“Mm?” Jim questioned hazily.

“You were thinking of fucking me.” Spock elucidated as Jim kissed and nipped along his jaw.

Was he? Jim was cloudy with lust. Probably. He’d probably been imagining fucking Spock. “I’m not going to fuck you, Spock.” he said distractedly. “We’ve been over this.”

“But you want to.”

“Spock --”

“Jim. I want you to.”

Jim pulled back enough to look into Spock’s eyes, which smouldered with the same fire of his own. Still, he hesitated. What they were doing now with Spock’s thighs tight around him was definitely enough. Everything they’d done so far was easily enough. But how was using Spock’s thighs to get off different from using his ass, exactly? Especially if Spock was saying he was a willing partner. An _eager_ partner. Since when did Jim Kirk say no to a lover practically begging to be fucked? And yet, he couldn’t imagine what Spock would get out of the experience. Jim had spent time fingering Spock before, and while Spock had said it was pleasant enough, it was certainly an underwhelming reaction to have in a lover.

Spock, however, released the steady pressure of his thighs and reached behind himself. At first Jim wasn’t sure what this new maneuver was, and then his eyes widened in surprise and lust. Spock was fingering _himself_ back there. Jim eased back onto his haunches to watch the beautiful man before him, sprawled and flushed and absolutely _wanton_ as he thrust those long digits into his virgin hole. Any concerns he had flew from his head as Spock let out a breathy “ _Jim_ ”.

Spock’s bodily control was always a wonder, and even more so now. His body opened so easily, so pliantly, though he was unaccustomed to the stretch. It had taken Jim ages to learn to properly relax himself, but Spock was a natural at this -- as he was at everything.

Jim was going to ask one more time, _Are you sure?_. He was going to hesitate, to reconsider. It would be awkward. But there wasn’t time or space for it here. Not when Spock pulled him down into a searing kiss and guided him in. Jim groaned as he sunk into that familiar tight heat, and it felt like home. Why shouldn’t it, when they fit together so perfectly at every other time?

Fucking Spock was more natural than he’d imagined it would be. There were fractions of a second when his mind flashed down to the limp, mostly retracted cock between them on Spock’s body. There were times when his mind flickered to the fact that Spock’s prostate wasn’t as sensitive as his own. But Spock banished those moments with kisses and caresses of his own. With soft gasps of pleasure and snug clenching and enticing wriggling of his hips. It was beautiful, and it was perfect.

When orgasm finally rolled through him, it wasn’t awkward -- it was completion. Pure and wonderful and as good as any sex he’d had before. Better. It didn’t matter that Spock hadn’t come with him as they laid panting together, slick with sweat and lube and cum, catching their breaths. Jim pressed himself up and stared down in wonder. “You’re incredible.”

Spock’s mouth twitched in a slight smile as he stared up adoringly. “The feeling is mutual, _t’hy’la.”_

Jim wasn’t sure how often they’d share this act in the future. There was so much else they could do, and it would always be a bit strange in its asymmetry. But it was something they _could_ share, he now realized. Spock certainly wasn’t the one preventing it.

 


	21. Spank Me

When Spock walked into Jim’s room that evening, Jim was missing. Which wasn’t entirely mysterious, he supposed. It was a late hour and Jim would normally be in his bed with a PADD and lounge clothes -- not asleep but not out and about. Since Spock had had late night work in the lab, however, it was conceivable that Jim went to spend time with Bones rather than spend it alone. He debated the merits of sending Jim a text message to his PADD or just making himself more comfortable and waiting. He’d told Jim he wouldn’t be back until 23:00 and had managed to get out an hour early, so really it was his own fault that they’d missed each other.

Spock thought all of this for just a moment before he heard the rummaging and muttering coming from his quarters -- through their shared bathroom. His brow knit in confusion and curiosity as he made his way through. What was Jim doing in _there_? They practically lived their lives in Jim’s quarters these days, and Spock’s were used as little more than a glorified closet.

When he stepped through, however, Jim was the picture of the kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. He was in the comfortable lounge clothes Spock had expected -- but unexpectedly he was sat on the floor by the closet with a massive array of sex toys spread out around him. Dildos, plugs, lube, various mystery contraptions (as far as Jim was concerned), and right now a rather intimidating acrylic paddle with holes drilled through it was held in his hand. His eyes went comically round at Spock’s appearance -- or perhaps they’d already been that wide when he’d found the paddle.

“Spock!” he squeaked.

Spock sighed. He really should have kept that box locked. No, actually he was certain he had locked it away from Jim’s prying eyes and hands. But of course the brat had found a way in. Jim was worse than a cat behind a closed door. He couldn’t let something alone.

“Jim.” he said with a sort of fond exasperation.

“I found your stash.” Jim said with half a smile, hoping that his charm could overpower any annoyance Spock might have with him. “You’re back early.” he remarked offhandedly.

“You broke my lock while I was in the lab.” Spock said flatly.

“Well, when you put it _that_ way....” Jim flushed a bit in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck with a free hand. He glanced down at the paddle in his other. “More importantly, why uhm... what exactly....” He gestured around vaguely with the paddle. “I mean really, Spock.” He raised his brows a bit, meaningfully. Or at least Spock understood it was meant to impart some sort of meaning, but he had no idea what.

“Yes?” he asked brusquely as he plucked the toy out of Jim’s hand and began scooping up the rest of the arrayed items, packing them neatly back into his box.

“Isn’t a paddle a bit... you know.”

“I do not.”

“Extreme?”

“A paddle. More extreme than my fist?” Spock quirked a brow at Jim, trying to determine whether he were serious. Humans had some strange standards at times, but there was also the possibility that Jim was being humorous or something. No, he looked serious, judging by the look of shock painted on his face.

“Well, I mean... it’s kind of a different axis entirely. I thought you didn’t like causing pain.” he squirmed in discomfort, though his eyes were glued to the toys Spock packed away, his hands twitching to take them out again.

“While I admit to a lack of relevant experience, I do not anticipate enjoyment of causing you significant pain.”

“What do you mean _significant_ pain?” Jim frowned.

“My understanding of the literature is that the application of a certain amount of pain can be quite enjoyable to many individuals.”

“How you can possibly discuss S&M while sounding like you’re discussing the weather is beyond me.” Jim remarked. “It’s really quite impressive.” Jim frowned as Spock reprogrammed his access code into the electronic lock box. “You know you don’t have to put that away. Or lock it. I already broke into it once and I already know what’s in it. Spock.”

Spock gave Jim an exasperated look. “I take it to mean you want to further investigate one of the new items?”

“All of the new items.” Jim said, making grabby hands toward the box from where he still sat upon Spock’s floor, looking tremendously younger than he really was. “Except the paddle.” he cringed dramatically, biting his lip and looking furtively up at Spock.

“As you wish.” Spock acquiesced easily. He popped open the box once more and held it toward Jim. “You may choose one item to try tonight. Though I _had_ meant to save these.” he admonished lightly.

Jim looked back into the box eagerly and began digging around. Plug. Dildo. Vibrator that could be really nice. Mysterious metal thingy. Paddle. He worried his lip between his teeth looking up at Spock and trying to puzzle the man out. He’d said they didn’t need to use the paddle, but he’d gone out of his way to buy it. And Jim could _not_ let something alone once the idea had taken root. What would it feel like? How much would it hurt? Would Spock like it? Would Jim? What about this pain/pleasure thing Spock had researched? Spock was the king of researching a subject thoroughly, and Jim _did_ trust him. But really? Then again, he’d had Spock’s fist up his ass, as Spock had pointed out. Was a little plastic paddle, not much larger than his palm really, going to be so bad? Jim had hurt himself catastrophically many times throughout his short life, so it wasn’t as if he had no pain tolerance. And if Spock wanted to do a little kinky spanking, that wasn’t _really_ the weirdest thing he’d heard of. He snatched the paddle decisively and held it out, a defiant jut to his jaw.

“Did you not just indicate some reticence for this object?” Spock asked curiously, smirking slightly. He’d estimated high odds that Jim would select just that toy. He took the paddle from Jim and stashed the rest of the box out of the way.

“I did no such thing.” Jim denied, crossing his arms. “I was just surprised. Curious.” He eyed it warily, nervously, and did a poor job of hiding his nerves with bravado.

“Would you prefer to do this here or in your quarters?”

Jim eyed Spock’s bed with a moue of distaste. They really did rarely spend time here. “In my room, I guess.” He pushed himself up off the floor. Spock held out his hand to usher Jim through first and followed him through.

“There are several ways we can do this.” Spock explained as Jim unceremoniously began to strip down. Spock made no move immediately to remove his own clothes. “From my reading, one of the more common scenarios is for me to act as the dominant partner while you would in turn become the submissive. Much of our play has already mirrored this arrangement, and I was curious to speak with you about a more deliberate arrangement during some of our encounters. Of course now is perhaps not the appropriate time for such a discussion.”

“Uhm....” Jim blinked at him, shirt half pulled off. “Maybe?”

“At any rate, we’ve played before with a safe word --”

“Red.” Jim agreed, nodding.

“Which seems like a good idea here.”

“You gonna undress tonight?” Jim asked doubtfully as he finished himself. It didn’t look likely.

“I was not planning on it.”

Jim twisted his lips in slight disappointment or annoyance, but he supposed it was appropriate. After all, they were trying to create a certain ambiance here.

“Would an explicit role-play scenario put you more at ease? Or more of a casual exploration?”

Jim stared at Spock blankly, having no earthly idea what he was talking about. Role-play? Like some sort of bad porn?

“For example, why am I spanking you? Are we Master and slave? Professor and naughty school boy?”

“Oh my god, Spock.” Jim blushed deeply. “You can’t just say things like that!”

Spock smirked at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Perhaps we should leave role-play for later exploration then.” he said simply, seating himself on the edge of the bed. “The customary position would be over my lap.” he indicated.

Jim eyed the lap, cringing all over with awkwardness. He hadn’t felt this level of discomfort since the earliest stages of their relationship, and really it was impressive that Spock could reinstate such epic levels of awkwardness with such ease. His mind flashed through a million subtle variations on just how he might sprawl himself over Spock’s lap, and all of them were uncomfortable. But not necessarily a bad uncomfortable. There was a certain squirmy feeling in his gut that went straight to his cock, and Spock apparently had wised up to it after so many months together.

Jim laid himself lengthwise across the edge of the bed, his ass across Spock’s lap and on display. He crossed his arms on the bed and buried his face in them, glad that at least he didn’t have to have his legs or head drooping to the floor.

Jim’s room was always a bit warmer than he preferred it -- ever since Spock had begun spending the nights. So he wasn’t the least bit cold, even when fully nude. But the room seemed suddenly a bit drafty as he became sharply aware of the contrast between his bare ass and Spock’s clothed lap.

Spock rubbed Jim’s ass and lower back first and foremost, sensing the tension in Jim’s frame and the anxiety prickling through exposed skin. Jim’s heart was beating through his chest, and rather than relaxing him, his anxiety ratcheted up the longer Spock delayed. He was about to snap at Spock to get on with it when the first, lightest of slaps landed on his exposed arse. His whole body twitched and tensed in response to the sound of the slap in the quiet room. It had hardly been a tap, and was only the flat of Spock’s smooth hand. Jim’s shocked gasp transformed into slightly hysteric giggles as some of his tension drained away.

“Very kinky, Mister Spock.” he said with a smile. What had he been expecting? Bruises? Blood? This was _Spock_. A few love taps may as well have been combined with fuzzy handcuffs and a honeymoon suite. He relaxed.

In retaliation for Jim’s cheekiness, Spock delivered another smack, slightly sharper than the last but still easily manageable. He worked slowly, and it took a bit of experimentation, but being a telepathic species had its advantages. It took him very little time to ascertain just what sorts of swats went right to Jim’s cock, his arousal spiking deliciously across his skin.

Rather than abuse his own sensitive palm, Spock traded the bare-handed swats for the acrylic paddle soon enough. When Spock made the switch, Jim’s reaction was gorgeous. Now that he was relaxed to the gentle swats and the blood had moved to the surface of his skin, his whole ass was sensitized. The stinging, thudding swat of the acrylic paddle was sharp and shocking but utterly confusing to his lust-clouded brain. He inhaled sharply and flexed thighs and back, wriggling and consequently rubbing his hard cock against Spock’s uniformed thighs.

The sting was phenomenal, especially as Spock kept going, and Jim wasn’t sure what to do with it. His mind, always whirring away actively had ground to a standstill, blank and unable to process anything other than the continual _swat, swat, swat_. It was all he could do to try and remain still, to try to remember to breathe as his fingers clutched the bedspread tightly. He moaned and winced at a particularly sharp swat even as his toes curled with a twisted sort of pleasure. “Sp-Spo-ah-” he tried, but whatever he’d meant to say to Spock fizzled away into a sound that would have been embarrassing at any other time.

He was mortified to realize tears had gathered into his glassy eyes, though they didn’t spill, just watered away threateningly. He ground his cock against Spock’s thighs, chafing against the scratchy fabric but desperate for release. He swore the reverberation of the paddle shot up his back and into his prostate somehow, like delicious electric shocks. Vaguely he was aware of his struggle to pull in enough air, quick little half-breaths on the verge of hyperventilation. And then he was being pulled up to straddle Spock, Vulcan arms wrapped around him as Spock murmured quiet words that made him feel warm but went in one ear and out the other.

One hand continued to gently stroke his blazing hot ass in a way that was equal parts soothing and painful while the other hand blessedly wrapped around his rigid cock. He was desperate with need, and it took an embarrassingly few number of pulls for him to spill.

Jim came back into himself gradually. It wasn’t that he was somewhere else, exactly, but that certainly had been one of the more intense things he’d done with Spock. “You never cease to amaze me.” he murmured into Spock’s shoulder as he still maintained his awkward straddle over Spock’s hips, cum drying on the sheets, Spock’s uniform, their skin. But Spock was awesome and paid it no mind. They’d clean in a minute.

“I take it to mean you are pleased?” Spock prompted.

“As if you can’t already tell.” Jim smiled into his shoulder.

He could, of course. It was so easy to read Jim’s emotions this way, skin to skin. “Nevertheless, I appreciate the occasional verbal confirmation.”

“It was good. Different.” He shifted to get up and winced. “Sore though.” he twisted back around to look for evidence of their play. His butt looked a little red, perhaps, but nothing more. Thank god there was no reason to go to sickbay. Spock was always awesome like that. “Maybe not for every day.” he added with a small laugh.

Spock stood with him and began to quickly shuck out of his clothes. A shower was an unspoken agreement and he followed Jim into the bathroom as he got the water running.

“I had not expected you to crave such attentions with frequency.” Spock agreed.

“What about you?” Jim prompted. “Did you like it too?”

Spock looked at his mate, who shifted so quickly from relaxed and happy to slightly nervous, insecure. Always Jim was adamant that Spock had to get something out of their activities too, independent of Jim’s pleasure. He’d accepted by now that what Spock got out of a particular activity might not be arousal exactly, but he was getting better at being content with the fact that Spock still enjoyed himself in some way.

“You were incredible, _t’hy’la_.” Spock admitted in hushed tones, watching Jim flush at the compliment. Such sentimental language wasn’t natural to either of them, but it was nonetheless true and sometimes needed to be said. “I enjoyed it.” he assured.

“Well.” Jim cleared his throat uncomfortably, distracting himself with shower supplies. “Good.” he nodded, satisfied. The paddle, he decided, could stay.

 


	22. Take My Breath Away

Spock had known for a while now that Jim had an oral fixation. It had taken him a bit of time to work it out, since he didn’t have an erect cock for Jim to suck on, which would have perhaps been the most obvious way to make the discovery. But to make up for a lack of cock sucking Jim had diverted his attention squarely to Spock’s fingers, sucking them whenever he got the chance. Often two, sometimes three, stretching his lips and sucking them down, challenging his gag reflex in spite of the fact that it simply wasn’t necessary for Spock’s pleasure. Though Spock wasn’t entirely unaffected by how wanton, how _filthy_ Jim always managed to make the activity.

Jim’s oral fixation brought to mind all sorts of possibilities for future activities of course. Once he’d worked out that Jim liked having his mouth full, Spock had done extensive research on different types of gags they might try. Not to mention the potential of a strap-on he’d already been considering for the future. All of that, though, would have to wait for the next star base.

Eventually, though, Spock realized that it was more than just an oral fixation going on with Jim, though the human was infuriatingly good at hiding it from him. The signs were subtle.

It was in the way Jim would melt any time Spock would pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck. Or the time Spock was braced above Jim to kiss him, one hand pressed against his chest. Jim had maneuvered them subtly until Spock’s hand was a bit higher, closer to his collar bones. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it other than Jim had adjusted for his comfort in the moment. Except that a pattern had emerged.

It was in the way that Jim would hold his breath before orgasm, or the way that he’d bury his face deep into his pillow when he was braced on shoulders and knees. And later, in the way that Jim’s arousal would spike whenever Spock even subtly restrained him or loomed over him, pressing him down. He’d thought at first that all of these were unrelated facets of Jim’s sexuality. An oral fixation, an affiliation for bondage, idiosyncrasies in how Jim preferred to position himself on the bed. And he might not have put the pieces together, so subtle were they, except that Jim’s mind had flicked to one particular memory for just half a second one night when they’d melded.

Spock had been pressing him into the bed with the full length and weight of his body, one hand wrapped around Jim’s cock while the other formed the meld. And there he was on the bridge, months ago, emotionally compromised and looming over Jim in a terrifying display of strength and lack of restraint. Spock broke the meld with a snap and reeled back instinctively. Had he intimidated Jim by his posture, somehow? What had he done to call forth _that_?

For a moment, neither one of them moved, both stiff and wide-eyed. “Spock --” Jim spoke first, licking his lips nervously. How was he going to explain himself in a way that wouldn’t freak Spock out?

“I must apologize.” Spock was quick to interject, although he wasn’t certain of what exactly he’d done wrong. His mind searched over the exact position they’d just been in, everything they’d been doing and compared it to every sexual encounter he’d had with Jim to date. Had Jim been intimidated by him before? He couldn’t say for certain. They didn’t always share a meld. He felt awkward and clammy at the idea that he’d done _anything_ to remind him of that day. His hands wrapped around the human’s fragile neck. He could have....

“Spock!” Jim was saying. “You’re not listening to me.”

That was true. Spock blinked back into the present moment.

“Look, you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? Just forget about it.” He heaved a great sigh. Fantastic. He’d absolutely ruined the mood. His cock had wilted halfway and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to get himself off quickly to relieve the pressure or just move on to some other activity since things were so weird now. And then he’d work on some technique to bleach his brain so he wouldn’t traumatize his boyfriend in the future.

“But what did I do?” Spock wanted to know. Jim said he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he must have. “I must rectify --”

“Spock.” Jim interrupted again, pressing his palm to Spock’s mouth. “No. Stop. Just --” He sighed in frustration again, casting his gaze away. “Do I seem upset to you? Did I seem upset a minute ago?”

Spock frowned and cast his mind over what had just happened. He had an eidetic memory, and he picked over every nuance with a fine toothed comb. Including the meld, forcing himself to look at it as objectively as he could, all the while watching Jim’s growing blush and emotional discomfort. Jim was right. He hadn’t been upset a moment ago. He’d been aroused. That made sense of course, considering their activities.

“So it was... you were simply reminded.” Spock reasoned aloud, slowly. “A quirk of human neurology. You were reminded of... then... but you were unaffected.” He knew that it could work like that at times.

“Not exactly.” Jim said, rubbing the back of his neck and still not meeting his eyes.

“I do not understand.”

Jim huffed a dry laugh. “I was affected, Spock. Just not in the way you’re worried about.”

Spock narrowed his eyes. “Explain.” he demanded.

“Listen, I know this is entirely fucked up and inappropriate, but _occasionally,_ I mean not even very often at all --” he rambled, lying through his teeth. By not often he meant always. “Occasionally the whole cave man thing does it for me.”

“Cave man thing.”

“Me Spock, you human. And then you club me over the head take me back to your cave, or whatever.”

Spock blinked uncomprehendingly at him.

“Spock, you could basically rip me in two if you wanted to.”

“I would not!”

Jim laughed a bit hysterically. “That’s part of what makes it hot. You _could_ but you won’t. So the strength thing is already absurdly attractive, and the choking thing....” he shrugged uncomfortably. “You don’t like me to bring it up, so I don’t. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think about it.”

Suddenly, all of the small details began to add up to create a larger picture, and Spock was equal parts disturbed and fascinated by the trend he began to observe. The touches to Jim’s neck that made him swoon. The lack of oxygen when Jim would bury his face in the pillows. He’d read about erotic asphyxiation, of course. There was little in the way of human sexual practices that Spock hadn’t looked into. But it hadn’t been something he’d given any thought to actually attempting. It was high risk behaviour and seemed more than a bit disturbed when he’d read about it.

“You want me to asphyxiate you.” he said simply, still reviewing Jim in his mind with this new light shed on all his behaviours. Everything took on a new cast and had to be re-examined.

“Er....” Jim hedged. “See, I knew you would be weird about this. You’re weird about the thing that happened on the bridge, and now you’re weird about this.”

“I nearly killed you!” Spock admonished.

“I didn’t say it was an appropriate response.” Jim defended. “I’m just saying that maybe, sometimes, I very occasionally get extremely aroused by the idea of you choking me out. It’s like not even a big deal.” In his mind, Jim willed himself to _stop talking_.

Spock forcibly _shoved_ his own discomfort aside to be dealt with later in meditation. Yes, Jim’s confession brought up a lot of baggage he’d not dealt with well thus far. But it wasn’t fair to Jim to let him believe his sexual desires were unnatural or something to be hidden. “Erotic asphyxiation is not an unheard of sexual practice among humans.” Spock said stiltedly.

“Uhm, bestiality isn’t _unheard of_ and I’m pretty sure it’s fucked up.”

“I see no reason why I cannot indulge you in this, Jim.” Spock assured him, already reviewing what he knew of the subject matter. Which wasn’t much. He hadn’t researched it _extensively_. A blood choke with his hands around Jim’s neck would take a lot more looking into before he’d ever attempt it. _If_ he could get over his own baggage.

Jim’s eyes darkened with lust at Spock’s proclamation, though he continued to protest. “Look, Spock, it’s totally not necessary. I mean you -- I --”

Spock shut him up with a hand clasped over Jim’s mouth as he looked deeply into his wide, slightly frantic eyes. Jim’s breaths already sped and shallowed as he breathed solely through his nose. But across his skin, Spock could sense only sparks of arousal and permission. Jim _wanted_ this. So while Spock still had his own reservations, he was more than curious to indulge Jim in whatever it was that would arouse him.

Spock deliberately placed one of Jim’s palms against his side. “If you want me to stop, tap out.” he instructed plainly. “Understood?”

Jim nodded frantically, and just like that the mood was re-established, tense with anticipation. His cock was nearly fully erect once again and his pupils dilated wide and black. Spock reached his hand back down to grasp Jim’s cock, stroking it just as he had been before. But instead of re-establishing a meld, the hand covering Jim’s mouth moved to also pinch closed his nose. Spock held his own breath easily at the same time that he deprived Jim of oxygen. It was an easy way to gauge just how long it’d been since Jim had last breathed.

But of course in his powerless position, Jim began to thrash and panic well before he was in real, dire need of air. The hand on Spock’s flank dug in and clasped against him, claw-like in its grip and determination not to flail away or tap out, though Jim’s eyes grew wide with panic and desperation. It would have been entirely disturbing, placing Jim in such a position. It _would_ have been, but this was about as turned on as Jim could get, the arousal was rolling off of him in waves even as he struggled futily to gasp and gave a muted whimper of need, his cock flexing and throbbing in Spock’s palm.

Spock released Jim’s nose but not his mouth just as Jim was starting to really tremble and sweat, and Jim frantically sucked in what air he could, nostrils flared and chest heaving. Then Spock pinched again, and cut off his supply. It didn’t take more than a second such denial for Jim to spill wetly over Spock’s stroking fist. He didn’t release cock or air supply until Jim had finished coming and his lungs were burning with need. Then he let go and pulled Jim up to lean against him as Jim drew in desperate gasps of air.

“I take it you’d like to do it again?” Spock prompted, when it seemed Jim’s breathing had finally evened out. Even now, he could sense that haziness in Jim that came from some of their more intense play.

“Would you hate it if I said yes?” he asked, looking up at Spock with lingering insecurity.

“Negative.” Spock said with a fond smile. With the amount of research he’d done before even _approaching_ Jim about a relationship, he’d never thought that he’d be the one who was surprised. But of course, one should never underestimate Jim. And really, if this “cave man thing” did it for him, that opened up another wide door of possibilities.

 


	23. Strap-On

At the next star base, Jim was like a kid at Christmas. He’d known that Spock had ordered more toys ahead of time, though the Vulcan had refused to divulge what exactly he’d purchased. Not only that, but Spock had demanded he promise not to hack into any of Spock’s accounts to find out. Nonetheless, by the time the actual star base came along, Jim just _knew_ that Spock would have a package waiting for him to pick up full of all kinds of fun. And he wanted to play. He wanted to play now. Never mind that  they’d hardly put a dent into the last box. There were new things that he hadn’t even glanced at yet! And new things were always the most novel.

A stop at a star base also meant picking up supplies, catching up on communiques of all sorts, setting the ship up for repairs, doing boatloads of paperwork. It meant scheduling leave rotations and coordinating a million and one small things. And most of those things needed to be overseen by the captain or the first officer, unfortunately for Jim. But it didn’t matter to him one bit that he only got back to his quarters at two o’clock in the morning, or that Spock didn’t come back until closer to three. He was not the least bit tired, and hadn’t even entertained the idea of going to bed.

“Is that it?” he asked eagerly as Spock entered their quarters with a nondescript cardboard box in hand. Spock quirked a brow at him.

“I assume you mean the sexual accoutrements I had ordered.”

“Yeah that.” Jim said, getting up to walk toward Spock and making grabby hands toward the box in question. Spock pulled it away from him with a glare.

“What gives you the impression that I intend to share its contents tonight?”

“Oh come on.” Jim whined. “Everyone else is on shore leave. We should be too.”

“Some of the crew are working and others are no doubt sleeping, as should we.”

“You _have_ to know there is no way I’m sleeping without trying _something_ in that box.” he said.

Spock had anticipated as much. He sighed in a put-upon manner but was truthfully equally interested in trying out one of the new items as soon as possible. The fact that Jim was wide awake in spite of the late hour was to his advantage in this case. He set the box aside and began pulling off his boots, noting Jim’s wide, excited grin. “We shall try _one_ item.” he said sternly. “And you are not to peek at the others without my permission this time.”

Jim muttered a triumphant “yes!” and began shucking his own clothes with record speed. Not only would he get to try out one of the new toys tonight, but Spock was getting fully nude this time as well. He wondered what it would be.

“Go lie on the bed.” Spock told him, tucking his box under his arm and sauntering naked through their shared bathroom to stash his supplies away from prying eyes.

Jim frowned, almost wanting to chase after him and peek after all, but Spock would return soon. He tossed the bedspread on the floor and got out the lube in anticipation, but stopped all activity when he heard the bathroom door reopen as Spock stepped through. What he saw made him stop breathing entirely.

Spock, in all his Vulcan glory... with a fully erect cock. It was large, and green, and magnificent. And made of plastic or something, but who cared? This was a sight that Jim had only been able to daydream until now.

Jim had never for a second considered that Spock might purchase a strap-on. After all, Spock was male. He _had_ a cock, it just didn’t get hard but for once every seven Vulcan years, and was mostly retracted into his body. So it made _sense_ , but he’d just never considered the possibility before. If he had, he would have thought Spock might be weird about it. Or that it might be strange for Jim to see his boyfriend dressed up this way. But Spock stood before him now in what looked like a series of leather straps, some sort of padding to protect his own junk, and a rather massive fake cock jutting out.

Jim’s mouth was dry and he hardly knew what to say or do. Luckily for Jim, Spock took the decision out of his hands as he stalked across the room, stroking his prosthesis as if it were truly a part of him. “I’ve noticed your oral fixation.” Spock said silkily. “And so I believe that the most appropriate first step to our coitus would be for you to demonstrate your skills in fellatio. On your knees, Jim.” he directed.

Jim’s mouth fell open in shocked arousal as he dropped off the bed and onto his knees. He grasped the monster in front of him and gave it a few hesitant strokes, staring up at the Vulcan towering above him. The size of the dildo was a bit formidable, and similar to his favourite, Mister Green. He’d asked Spock about the size of Mister Green once, and Spock had told him that it was roughly the size of the average Vulcan penis. As Spock hadn’t actually seen himself erect before, he could only guess at what he would be like during _pon farr_ , but he’d assumed the toy would be a rough approximation. That had been a mind-blowing revelation. Vulcans were _hung_ , apparently.

This dildo was very similar to their regular toy, though was obviously designed to be used specifically with this harness. Although it was hard and unforgiving in his fist, as Jim stared at the appendage he could well imagine it really was Spock’s real cock he held, and that made his own harden further in reaction. All of his wet dreams had come true.

“I believe I told you to suck it, not stare at it.” Spock reminded him, smirking a bit at Jim’s distraction.

Jim didn’t need any more prompting than that as he leaned in to lick the plastic toy from base to tip, coating it steadily in his saliva so that it would go down easy. Then all at once he swallowed as much as he was able, moaning at the delicious stretch to his mouth. So much fuller than Spock’s fingers ever could be. It had been ages since he’d had occasion to suck cock, but he certainly knew how. And even though he knew intellectually that Spock couldn’t feel any of the sensations his mouth was producing, he used every trick in the book -- licking and sucking for his own enjoyment.

Above him, Spock was certainly not unaffected. If he’d thought it had been hot when Jim had sucked his fingers before, that was nothing to the picture Jim presented now. A primal, deep-seated facet of his mind was tremendously pleased to see his mate on his knees before him, trying so desperately to please him. So needy and wanton. Though he was still far from _pon farr_ , he couldn’t wait to fuck into Jim. To see him splitting open and falling apart beneath him.

For now though, he threaded his fingers into Jim’s hair, feeling the lust rolling off him. It was almost cloying. He urged his cock deeper into Jim’s mouth, nudging the back of his throat, and was astounded when Jim simply melted before him, relaxing his throat and allowing himself to be guided further down. He hadn’t expected a mere human to possess the physical and mental control needed to deep throat with such ease, but Jim had clearly done this before. Jim swallowed around the yielding toy without the slightest resistance, though his eyes watered and were taking on that glassy look they got only during their more intense play.

After a few moments more, Spock pulled back as Jim hoarsely drew in breaths. Jim stared up at him, mouth slightly open still and lips shiny with spit, face flushed with arousal.

“On the bed.” Spock ordered him, his own voice a bit rough from how affected he was by Jim’s display.

Jim could have chosen any position to get into on the bed, and something very much like arousal shot through Spock as Jim propped himself on elbows and knees, ass up and head lowered toward the sheets. He might not be in _pon farr_ , but he was still fully Vulcan, and had a possessive streak a mile wide. To see Jim in such a vulnerable position before him was captivating.

Spock wasted no time in cracking open the bottle of lube, roughly shoving one finger into Jim’s hole. He was careful, but he knew that Jim liked a bit of a challenge when the mood called for it, and as they regularly engaged in anal play Jim was quick to accommodate the intrusion. Still, Jim hissed in discomfort and flexed and relaxed as Spock stretched him. First one finger, then soon two. “I’m going to split you wide open.” Spock warned him. “Do you think you can handle my cock?”

Jim whined helplessly as he slumped further beneath him. By the way he trembled, Spock wondered whether Jim would come from fingers alone, before they even got to the main event. Of course the dirty talk was only that. Jim regularly took a toy of this same size, and had taken quite a bit more in the past. But Spock had learned months ago that Jim loved any and all reminders of just how fragile and small he was in comparison to a huge, insurmountable toy or task.

When Jim was sufficiently loose, Spock lost no time in slicking the toy jutting forth from his pelvis. This is what it would be like, he imagined. This simulation was the closest he might ever get to actually understanding what went on during _pon farr_. Even during the event itself, he wasn’t certain whether he’d be lucid enough to remember much at all  afterward. But he had to imagine it would be something like this. Cock rock hard and jutting ahead of him, and Jim trembling on elbows and knees.

Spock curled his hands around Jim’s hips for leverage, and this too was new. With the toy strapped to him, there was no need to sacrifice a hand to handling it. He was coming to truly appreciate this harness. He lined up carefully and pressed in slowly, watching as Jim opened around him. And though it was only a toy, it really did feel like an extension of himself. Jim groaned and trembled as Spock tightened his grip on Jim’s hips, forcing the toy deeper in. He gave an experimental pull backward, then thrust inward again. Jim’s answering moan was all the permission he needed.

Jim absolutely lost himself to the rhythm of Spock fucking him. It was so _real_ , so phenomenally real. Now that he could no longer see the harness itself, now that the unyielding plastic of the toy was buried inside of him, there was no evidence that he could discern to make this anything other than one hundred percent natural. This was Spock’s dick, and Jim was getting fucked with it. And holy shit.

It was so beyond anything he’d even allowed himself to imagine. Not so far ahead of _pon farr_ , not so early in their relationship when the hope of _getting_ that far was so distant and tenuous. But it was real, and it was here, and it was amazing. He let himself slump further toward the bed, hips held high in Spock’s tight grip. Spock was so _strong_ , from the power of his thrusts to the way he held Jim up off the bed so trivially. And Jim, Jim allowed himself to simply fall apart, paying no heed to the mewls and whimpers that at any other time might have embarrassed him. They were well earned.

And then he was spilling onto the sheets below, cock untouched and every nerve raw. Spock fucked him through it and stilled as Jim’s cock gave its final, feeble twitches. He could almost imagine the toy flexing within him as Spock spilled his own seed. After all, buried that deep it was rare that he could feel a man ejaculate anyway, except by the subtle flex that might give it away. It was easy to imagine they’d both come that time, together.

Carefully, Spock extracted himself and helped Jim lie down more fully on the bed, away from the wet spot. He’d have to change the sheets in a minute. Clean up the toys. He hastily unstrapped the harness and toy from his body to deal with in a bit. For now he eased himself down to cuddle, and Jim wasted no time in latching onto him as usual.

Jim’s kiss was surprisingly deep. When he pulled back, his eyes were still a bit glassy. “You’re incredible. _That_ ,” he gestured at the discarded toy, “was incredible.”

“So you will wish to try this again.” Spock stated without inflection. It garnered the broad grin he’d hoped for.

“You bet your ass we’re trying that again.”

“If anyone’s ass is being used as collateral I believe it is yours, _t’hy’la_.”

“Shut up, Spock.” Jim said in exasperation, then kissed him again.

 


	24. A More Formal Arrangement

Jim frowned at the stacks of PADDs and papers arrayed around him on the bed. Where had Spock even produced all of this? There was way too much information here, that was certain. “What do you mean a ‘formal arrangement’?” he questioned again, squinting at the jargon on the PADD currently in his hands. Master, slave, dominant, submissive, owner, property -- the list went on.

“As I have explained before.” Spock said with some exasperation tinging his voice. “Many of the activities in which we engage already correspond to well defined roles and stereotypes. It might be enjoyable, or even beneficial, to more formally designate those roles and boundaries.”

“You want me to what, be some sort of sex slave for you?” Jim wrinkled his nose in distaste. If _that_ was what Spock was getting at, they were going to have one hell of an argument.

“Only on weekends.” Spock said with an entirely straight face.

Jim’s head snapped up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. “Did you just make a joke?” he asked, slightly stunned. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“There are of course arrangements that are long term and perpetual.” Spock went on, entirely ignoring the last exchange. “However, my assumption was that it would be most appropriate for us to rely on our ‘roles’ during coitus alone, and even then perhaps only some of the time, as is appropriate.”

Jim pushed the PADDs a bit away from him with a sigh. “You want me to be your sex slave, but only when we’re actually having sex, and only sometimes.”

“Essentially.”

“Isn’t that what we already do?”

“That is what I have already indicated.”

Jim threw up his arms in defeat. “Then what is the point of all of this?” He gestured around at the PADDs and papers cluttering the bed. “If we’re already doing it, then why do I have to learn all these new words and fill out paperwork? Is this some sort of paperwork fetish of yours, Spock? Because it really wouldn’t shock me if that’s what this is about, and I fully support your need to write everything down.”

“Did you even attempt to fill in the questionnaire?” Spock asked with a slight frown of concern. It didn’t seem as if Jim was taking this seriously at all.

“I thought that was Bones’ risk assessment thing.” he answered distractedly, pawing through the piles in search for it. He’d given it a cursory glance.

“Negative. It is supposed to serve as a list of likes and dislikes. Things you’re curious to try, limits on what should absolutely not be attempted. Jim are you listening to me?”

“Ah! It’s right here.” he held up the PADD in question triumphantly, glancing over the list. “Spock we already did a bunch of this stuff. Insertables, spanking....” he flicked through the list, clicking 5/5, enthusiastic for nearly every option. Spock watched him with a brow raised skeptically. He’d see whether Jim was actually reading the list in a moment, as he was certain fecal play was somewhere on that list. Either Jim would be forced to rank something as lower than 5, or Spock would have some concerns and questions of his own.

“Is this it?” Jim asked as he continued to skim and click, not looking up. “Or was there something else?”

“There are sample contracts defining the limits of the relationship. Rules, rights, and so on. Formal declaration of safe words and procedures.”

“You already gave me a safe word. Red. And you had me tap out that one time.”

“It would be better if you read up on these things yourself, rather than just allowing me to dictate the terms.” Spock pointed out.

“Why? I trust you.” Jim shrugged. “And besides, you want to be the Dom, right? You should decide. If you want me to sign a contract though just write one up.” He set aside the questionnaire and began digging through the other stuff. “Did you have one in mind already or are these all just meant to be sample material?”

“They are samples.” Spock answered, slightly annoyed.

Jim pulled one out at random, glancing over it. “You want me to call you Master in the bedroom?” he asked, glancing at some of the sample rules.

“I had not given it significant thought. This was meant to be a discussion.”

“What about Daddy?” Jim asked with a smirk, glancing up. He saw Spock blush slightly in discomfort and grinned widely. “Hmm....”

“I’m am uncertain whether you are taking this discussion seriously.”

“What about this rule? This guy’s not allowed to masturbate without express permission, or even orgasm without asking.”

“Unnecessary.”

“You said you wanted this some of the time, right? But not all the time? How am I supposed to know when I’m supposed to obey these ‘rules’ or not?” Jim was growing tired of paperwork time, and was only more confused as he tried to make sense of this stuff.

“There are several ways we could establish protocol.” Spock told him. “We could have predetermined times for such play. We could have a physical symbol, such as a collar. Or use of formal titles. Formal postures, such as kneeling.”

Jim wrinkled his nose in distaste but said nothing as he continued to skim through the sample contract before him. None of that sounded the least bit appealing. It sounded to him like a whole lot of work with very little gain. He failed to see what fixation Spock had on this whole thing. If their current arrangement wasn’t broke -- why fix it?

He looked up at Spock a bit helplessly and sighed. Spock was stiff and emotionless as usual, but Jim was getting better at reading the subtle shifts in his mood. He’d definitely annoyed the Vulcan. Apparently all of this -- whatever this was -- meant _something_ to Spock, though he couldn’t seem to get a straight answer out of the man. “Can I think about it for a while?” Jim asked, and was relieved when Spock easily agreed. It would take him a while to wade through so much information. A whole world was out there that he’d paid very little attention to in the past. But perhaps it was time for him to pay a bit closer attention. After all, what Spock was asking of him really didn’t seem like that big of a stretch from what they were already doing together -- at least, from what he could tell. And Spock always asked for so little. As soon as he had time, he vowed to fill out the questionnaire accurately, and to try and make some headway on the rest.

 

~~~

 

Jim spent a month slogging through articles and lists and forums about this dominant/submissive thing Spock seemed to want to discuss. The more he read, the more he understood. Spock was possessive in a way that was uniquely Vulcan, an instinct dating back to the time before Surak. He’d known this already, but reading about how some of these relationships worked made it all make a certain sense. Of course Spock would like the idea of giving Jim orders and having them obeyed. And really to Jim the whole thing seemed kind of kinky and hot. Plus, it wasn’t like Spock was looking for some sort of 24/7 total power exchange commitment.

So for a month he researched and pondered, and all the while their sex life stayed roughly the same as it had been. They certainly had plenty of activities to keep themselves occupied with in the meantime.

The more Jim read, the more he was convinced that some Master and slave role-play was an experience worth trying at least once. And besides, the questionnaire Spock had provided had surprised him with just how many things they hadn’t actually tried yet. He was itching to find out what Spock would want to try off the list of things he’d marked with his own enthusiastic interest.

After a month of planning, Jim laid out his own plan. Monday morning, he left a gift for Spock on their bedside table. A crude leather collar he’d fashioned out of a spare belt. A PADD with a fully filled out kink questionnaire. And a small scrap of paper that simply read: for Friday, 20:00. That would give Spock a week to plan his next move.

 

~~~

 

Jim knelt in the centre of the bed, the collar around his neck and not a stitch more of clothing. Spock hadn’t officially confirmed their date, but he hadn’t said no either, so Jim had decided to just go for it and see what came of it. When Spock entered their quarters a few minutes later, he couldn’t help but break the mood by giving his Vulcan the biggest grin.

Spock stood for a moment simply surveying his beautiful mate. Jim was always aesthetically pleasing, but with the collar even more so. Even on Vulcan, the significance of a collar was obvious. It was to keep animals in place, for chattel and pets alike. A symbol of one’s property, and at times in the past had been used on slaves. Worlds apart, their cultures weren’t really so different. To see it on Jim, marking the man as _his_ , was heady.

“For the duration of the night you shall address me as Sir.” Spock dictated, stalking around Jim and taking him in.

Jim did his best to sit up straighter from where he’d fallen into a comfortable slump. He bit back his smile as best he could. “Yes, Sir.”

“Are you prepared to do everything that is asked of you?”

“You bet your ass I am.” he agreed eagerly. At Spock’s annoyed glare, he hastily added “Sir.”

“We shall see.” Spock returned enigmatically. “Stay here while I gather supplies.” he instructed, then headed through their shared bathroom to get the toys he’d picked out during some of his down time throughout the week. He wanted their first “scene” to at least be interesting enough to ensure Jim would do it again. The idea of someone so strong, independent, and cheeky as Jim submitting his will to Spock was a potent proposition.

He headed back into Jim’s quarters when he was ready. He’d changed into the soft black pants and tunic that he normally wore to bed, and had a bag of supplies. Jim eyed him hungrily. Spock might not be the image of what a Dom was in porn -- leather pants and cyber-goth mystique. But from his bare feet to his habitual stoicism, he oozed quiet command.

“Hands behind your back.” Spock instructed simply as he pulled a length of rope from his mystery bag. Jim’s eyes shone with eager anticipation. Bondage had been on his questionnaire -- an honest, enthusiastic five out of five, though he’d had little previous experience other than some fuzzy handcuffs with a pair of Caitian twins.

Spock’s work was steady and meticulous as always, and Jim felt himself relaxing into his assigned role while paradoxically his excitement built. The rope wasn’t anything fancy. Jim couldn’t imagine it was something Spock had spent money on. It was rough and scratchy, though clean, and felt like something they’d keep with the ship’s supplies. The fact that Spock was using something so utilitarian on him sent a thrill through him. He didn’t even merit proper restraints. A bit of spare rope would do.

When Jim’s wrists were secure, Spock checked one last time for proper blood flow, then rummaged again in his bag. It was time to reveal a new toy to Jim -- one which he’d been waiting for the perfect time to reveal.

Jim’s eyes widened with lust as he saw the gag that Spock pulled from his bag. It was like something straight out of porn -- all black straps and buckles, with a shiny red ball in the centre. He’d marked ‘yes’ to gags on his questionnaire, of course, but now that he thought about it he had supposed that Spock would have gone for something more subdued. His mouth hung open slightly already from his surprise, and Spock took that opportunity to press the rubber ball between his lips. He gently thumbed Jim’s bottom lip, spread thin against the rubber ball. “Alright?” he prompted, and Jim nodded his head affirmatively as he took slow breaths through his nose.

The gag would certainly save Jim from having to address Spock as “Sir” for the evening. Spock wasn’t sure that Jim could take it seriously for very long, and this would go a long way toward keeping them both in the right mood. Not to mention the fact that as always, Jim’s oral fixation was a consideration.

Behind Jim, Spock pressed a metal sphere into one of Jim’s open palms. Jim recognized it right away -- a sort of tool one rolled in their hand in order to meditate, it emitted a soft chime as something within it shifted around. Spock had a set of these metal balls in his quarters. His brow furrowed in temporary confusion.

“If you want to use your word, simply drop it.” Spock instructed him. “Otherwise, keep it in your hand.”

Jim’s hand immediately clenched more firmly on the metal, determined not to forget himself and drop it by mistake. Now he had a task to fully focus his attention, and he was barely aware of Spock helping to rearrange him, knees spread wide on the bed, ass up and shoulders down, head turned to the side. Jim flexed in discomfort in his new position, his shoulders pulling strangely due to his bound wrists.

Spock spent a moment simply admiring his mate, bound and on display before him. He ran his hand down Jim’s back, over his ass which flexed and trembled for him. Already Jim was fully erect, and he pressed back against Spock’s touch. Spock quickly pulled away. “Are you going to be good for me, my Jim?” he asked quietly.

Jim moaned in answer. It was a vague sound, heavy with arousal, and Spock supposed it would do for a response. The next thing Jim felt was the familiar unyielding plastic of the acrylic paddle. He shivered in reaction. That thing _hurt_. It had been hot, yes. Tremendously so. But they’d not really played with it again apart from that first time. Now his heart sped instinctively as he recalled exactly what was in store for him.

Spock gave Jim a gentle, experimental tap, not drawing out his wait. Jim tensed and sucked in a breath as much as he was able past his gag, then relaxed. That hadn’t been so bad, and his body slowly began to ease into the gentle love taps, as Spock urged him to fall into the hypnotic rhythm. Jim steadily lost himself in the sensation. It would be okay. Spock had him. But _damn_ did that thing sting. He couldn’t help the moisture that gathered in the corners of his eyes, or the fact that his breaths came now in hitching gasps.

Spock stopped at length and rubbed against the reddened, irritated flesh, and Jim hissed through his gag, fist still clenched tightly around his metal ball. A few stray tears had spilled onto his cheeks though he’d not really cried, and drool was leaking embarrassingly out of the corners of his stretched mouth. Spock found him absolutely captivating. And below Jim, between his spread thighs, his cock swung hard and heavy. Perfect.

Spock settled himself on the bed before Jim, as Jim raised his head curiously to watch what Spock would do next. He propped himself up against the pillows, seated comfortably with his back against the headboard, and pulled the last items from his little bag. He decided to let Jim watch if he would as he set this last bit up.

Still fully clothed -- for he knew just how much that went to Jim’s cock at times like this -- Spock pulled out his adjustable harness. But rather than attaching it to his pelvis as before, he arranged the straps over his sleep pants and onto one thigh, the green plastic cock jutting up unnaturally from a leg. There was no mistaking this toy for Spock’s cock this time, Jim realized. This was a tool, pure and simple, and somehow the indignity of it made it somehow filthier... and hotter.

Spock beckoned Jim forward with a crooked finger, and Jim struggled to raise his shoulders up off the bed, to shuffle forward on his knees with his wrists still bound. Spock hooked a finger in his collar when he was within arm’s reach and pulled Jim to straddle his lap. In his other hand was a bottle of lube, his fingers already slick with it. Jim moaned softly as Spock penetrated his ass, working quickly, a bit roughly to open him up.

“Do you want something inside you, Jim?” Spock prompted him, and Jim shut his eyes in embarrassment but nodded eagerly. “You’ll have to fuck yourself on it this time.” he told him, and Jim shuddered. “Go on.” Spock urged, after a few more moments of prep. “If you want it, you can have it.”

He helped steady Jim with hands on his hips, but Jim’s thighs trembled as he struggled to arrange himself over Spock’s thigh without his own arms to support himself. It was precarious and physically demanding to try and hover himself over the slick toy. Slowly, he managed to lower himself onto it, and groaned as he felt the fullness of the initial penetration. God, after so much build his body was more than ready for it, though his hard cock bobbed in front of him, protesting its own neglect.

Jim lowered himself shakily and began to work himself on the toy. This was certainly different. Always, Spock had controlled the penetration, whether it be by his hand or his hips. Jim had certainly fucked himself with toys before when he’d masturbated, but this wasn’t like that either, nor could it really be compared to the handful of times he’d ridden another man. No, this was uniquely embarrassing, and he felt _wanton_ as he shifted his hips, driving himself down harder, trying to achieve that perfect angle that would help him _finally_ get some relief.

Jim whined pathetically, looking at Spock with wide eyes, trying to communicate his desperation from a look. If only Spock would touch his cock, or help him to control the shift of his hips. _Something_ , anything. But Spock had wanted to challenge him, and the authority behind that order was entirely more arousing than it had any right to be. All the while, Spock murmured encouragement.

“You’re so perfect for me, my Jim. That’s it. You’re doing so well.” he cooed, petting Jim and helping him balance with a gentle hand on hip or shoulder, guiding but never truly aiding in his pursuit of release.

It took a while -- longer than it normally took Jim to get off -- but when he finally came, it was explosive. With a moan and a choked off sob Jim shoved himself down on the toy one final time, his legs practically giving out from beneath him as they trembled from over-exertion and he came wetly across Spock’s perfect black nightclothes, cock untouched. His breathing was erratic and tears of frustration and relief spilled from the corners of his eyes, his whole body trembling with the intensity of his emission.

Spock simply continued to pet him and murmur praise until he had finished, then gently helped Jim into a more comfortable position, lying on his side on the bed. He saw to the ropes next, rubbing blood back into Jim’s arms and setting the metal ball aside. Finally, he carefully pulled away the gag as Jim worked his sore jaw.

“Are you well, _t’hy’la_?” Spock asked gently, unable to resist touching him again, checking in on Jim’s emotions as he’d done continually throughout their play, reassuring himself that Jim truly was fine.

“Yeah.” Jim answered dazedly, his voice a bit hoarse. He was still kind of out of it, but felt amazing. “That was....” he searched his muddled mind for a word to describe it. “It was good.” he said simply.

Spock knew that he’d make Jim go over it in a bit more depth later, when Jim was more coherent. Or if he couldn’t get the man to have a proper conversation, he’d send another one of his questionnaires to Jim’s PADD to debrief. But for now, there were more important things to attend to.

He stripped off his own clothes at long last. Removed Jim’s makeshift collar, and got him to sit up enough to have a drink. Then it was granola bars, blankets, and cuddles as before. Jim settled in with a smile against his mate. This part was almost as good as the sex. If this Dom/sub thing that Spock wanted to explore more went like this, he was totally on board.

 


	25. Strength

Jim flexed and writhed under Spock as they continued their slow kisses. The strap-on harness and toy were nearby, along with a tube of lubricant, but they hadn’t gotten there yet. For now, both of them were content to share human and Vulcan kisses alike. Well, Spock was content. Jim was restless, always.

Spock’s fingers threaded through Jim’s own in a practised slide of skin that tingled like static electricity. In consequence, Spock was partially pinning Jim down, and Jim couldn’t help but press his hands up, flex his wrists as if to break free. Fluidly, Spock shifted to allow Jim some more leeway, which seemed to be his intent. Spock leaned in for another press of lips as Jim sighed in frustration, trying to wriggle his wrists back under Spock’s.

“ _T’hy’la_.” Spock murmured against Jim’s mouth. “What are you attempting to accomplish?”

“Nothing.” Jim laughed somewhat nervously, and Spock could detect the lie of it easily through their press of skin. Before he could question Jim further, however, Jim surged up as much as he was able, to capture Spock’s lips with his own and distract him.

Spock’s hands spread down and over Jim’s palms, over the wrists, and again Jim flexed as if to break free. Spock pulled back once more.

“Don’t --” Jim tried to warn him, sighing as Spock instinctively pulled back.

Spock arched a brow, reviewing what had just happened. He blinked when he thought he had it worked out. “You wish to be restrained.” he stated simply.

Jim squirmed with arousal and slight embarrassment. “Only if you want to restrain me.” he hedged.

“You could simply ask.”

“But it’s not the same if I ask.”

“Would you like me to get out the rope again?” Spock asked, glancing aside at the open toy box across the room. He’d only intended to use the strap-on but he could be flexible.

“No!” Jim warned him away, trying not to let Spock get distracted or off the bed. It was bad enough he’d stopped what he was doing to _talk_. “Less talking, more kissing.”

Spock surveyed Jim suspiciously. Jim _liked_ the rope. He knew it for a fact. Why, then, was he so opposed to it when he clearly wanted to be restrained? Experimentally, Spock trailed his fingers gently over Jim’s wrists, still sitting up well out of kissing range. Then deliberately, he closed his long fingers over those wrists and pressed down, holding Jim firmly in place. Jim flexed his wrists instinctively, then pushed his arms up more strongly while Spock held him down. Arousal spiked through Jim’s skin, his eyes darkening.

So that was it. Spock had known in a vague sense that his superior strength appealed to Jim, but he hadn’t realized just how much. As a Vulcan in a world of humans, he’d learned to be exceedingly careful with his strength. Not only would he never bodily handle another human being to begin with, but he found ways to hide his strength in all areas if he could. In his experience, humans didn’t like to be reminded of their fragility, or of some perceived weakness they felt around species stronger than them.

Spock smirked. He leaned down to press a kiss to Jim’s mouth, keeping Jim’s wrists firmly where he wanted them, giving up all pretense of Vulcan kisses as Jim struggled futilely to wrest his hands from Spock’s grasp. Spock felt Jim smile against his mouth as he pressed his body more firmly down against Jim’s own, and immediately felt Jim try to buck him off, feet scrabbling on the sheets for purchase.

All pretense of their regular foreplay was forgotten as soon they were in an all out wrestling match in Jim’s small bed. Jim was slippery but Spock was much stronger, and really, Jim _wanted_ to be caught. Soon Spock had him flipped around to his front, his legs locked around Jim’s and Jim’s wrists pinned behind his back. Jim moaned as he wriggled and thrust his cock down against the sheets. “God _damn_ you’re strong.” he remarked.

“My own puny little human.” Spock taunted him. The dirty talk felt a bit unnatural to him still but was well worth it for the spike of lust that raced through Jim as a result. He held Jim’s wrists easily with one hand while the other worked the straps of his strap-on harness.

“Gonna force yourself on me?” Jim asked hoarsely. “Take advantage of the weaker species?”

“I doubt that any force is strictly necessary.” Spock answered wryly. “But I _can_ , if you’d prefer.”

Getting the lube open one handed took a bit of finesse, but it was hardly the most difficult task Spock had faced. And he’d become an expert at preparing Jim’s body for penetration efficiently. Really, it felt more like Jim was trying to fuck himself on Spock’s fingers than to wriggle away or buck him off.

“Now, how will I have you?” Spock mused aloud as he worked.

“I could pin you to the bed as you are, of course, but that’s hardly a challenge for either of us.”

“Ngh.” Jim grunted, partially from the way Spock stroked over his prostate and partially due to the things Spock was _saying_.

“I could take you on your back.” Spock continued. “With your legs over my shoulders, and fold you in half. We could find out just how flexible you are.”

“N-not very.” Jim tried to argue. “People who say they can actually touch their toes are liars.”

“Perhaps then, you’d simply best hold on.” Spock warned him, releasing his wrists while his other hand pulled away from preparing Jim’s ass.

“Wait, wha--” Jim started to ask in surprise, limbs flailing as Spock was up and out of the bed, picking him up effortlessly. His arms latched onto Spock’s shoulders instinctively as legs wrapped around hips. Before he could even process the maneuver, Spock had him pinned against the wall, lifting him by his hips and ass as he sunk Jim down on his prosthetic cock.

“Jesus Christ.” Jim breathed in surprise, tightening his grip on Spock’s shoulders at the initial breach. His mind boggled at just how strong Spock really was, and obviously the wall sex had been calculated to do just that. It was a good gamble on Spock’s part, Jim thought. He really was very smart--

Any further thoughts were blanked as well as stars danced before Jim’s eyes as Spock braced them both and began to fuck in earnest. It was all Jim could do to hold on for dear life and submit himself to the onslaught. The delicious, mind-blowing onslaught. It took every ounce of his own strength just to try and scrabble for purchase on Spock. He couldn’t imagine how the Vulcan was able to manage at all. This was the stuff of pornography and wet dreams. _This_ was why Spock’s strength was a turn on.

It really didn’t take Jim long to come like that, and of course Spock never really did -- so it was probably best for both their sakes. They retreated to the bed directly after, limbs still trembling from exertion.

“You could probably rip me in half.” Jim commented after some time, still swimming in his post orgasmic haze.

“Probably not literally.” Spock corrected him. Probably.

Jim turned his head to blink at Spock, never really sure when he was making a joke. Was that supposed to reassure him? Of course, even if Spock could kick his ass, he wouldn’t. Jim continued his roll toward Spock and flung half his body atop him. Now that he wasn’t being fucked into a wall, Spock seemed like little more than a big teddy bear. A big, lethal, terrifying, mind-blowingly hot, and most of all loveable teddy.

 


	26. Sounding

“Spock, seriously.”

“Jim.”

“What were the weird metal things in the box?”

“To which box are you referring? Would this be the box of my personal items? In my closet? The locked box that you broke into?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed as his effort in deflection failed. He’d known it would only be a matter of time until Jim circled back to the items he’d found there. But just because Spock had made certain purchases didn’t mean he actually intended to use every single item. Or at least, not immediately. Perhaps if Jim showed certain inclinations in the future. He regretted not locking the box more securely.

“I believe there was a pair of handcuffs.” Spock hedged.

“No, I saw the handcuffs. I know what handcuffs are.” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “The metal rod thingies. Are they part of something? It’s not like you to just leave random tools lying around so they have to be part of one of the other toys.” he mused.

“Negative.” Spock smirked. He couldn’t help himself. He really should not be encouraging Jim’s curiosity in this however, if he wanted the matter to be dropped.

Jim’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “But... they... what....” His mind blanked as he tried to make sense of what they could be _for_.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to have this discussion with Doctor McCoy?” Spock suggested. “I am certain he would be able to deduce their use.” Not to mention disturbing discussions of their sex life would utterly destroy the doctor. Point one: Spock.

“So Bones would know what they’re for.” Jim mused. “Something medical.” Jim stared off into space for a while, completely drawing a blank. The only medical things he was aware of were hyposprays and little metal rods didn’t seem to have anything to do with that -- that he knew of -- and at any rate, hyposprays weren’t the least bit sexy. “You’re not going to tell me about this tonight, are you?” he asked in defeat a while later.

“Correct.” Spock confirmed, not even bothering to look up from his PADD. He could be just as stubborn as Jim when it suited him, and for now, they were at an impasse.

 

~ ~~

 

“Bones. Bones. Bones. Bones.”

“Crimony, can’t a man work?”

“You’re not working. You’re reading some bodice ripper that you keep in your top left drawer. Don’t think that I don’t know about those.” Jim sat himself on the biobed nearest Bones’ work area.

“Then don’t _you_ have work to do?” he griped.

“Off duty.” Jim said quickly. He laid himself down on the biobed and started pumping his legs on some sort of stair climbing monitor that made no sense. “Listen. I have a question. A _medical_ question.” he interjected before Bones could refuse. The man glared at him but held his silence, folding his arms across his chest. “What do you think Spock wants to do with these thin metal rods I found in his toy box?” he asked curiously. “Yea big?” he moved his fingers a few inches apart. “About as thick as a stylus?”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed in confusion for a minute, then widened in horror. “Good God, man! It’s not enough you want that hobgoblin’s fist where fists weren’t meant to go -- now you want him sticking things up in your dick? And _what_ have I told you about disclosing intimate details that I would rather _not_ have in my head?”

“Uhm... that I should disclose them so you can fill out some risk assessment thingy?” Jim asked innocently.

“Christ.” Bones groused, pulling up said risk assessment form that he already had on file for the two of them. He had more boxes to check. “The hobgoblin is supposed to update this thing when you add new high risk behaviours to your usual nightmarish repertoire.”

“We haven’t used them yet. What exactly do you mean about sticking things in my dick?” Jim asked, pulling his feet off the leg pumping things and fiddling with sensors on the side of the biobed. Hmm. That one made it dip into the red zone. Was he dying? He toggled the switch a few times.

This whole putting things in his dick line of thinking though was his real concern. Because things didn’t go _into_ dicks. Things came out. And dicks went in things. But lengths of metal? No. No way.

“I meant exactly what I said. Did you even _try_ looking this up before asking me?” he complained.

“Yeah. Search for metal thingies didn’t work.” Jim answered distractedly. “But when you say they go _in....”_ He tried to get them back on track.

“I mean in. They’re sounding rods. Go slow, start small, use lube. Now don’t ask me any more damned questions about it. I gave you a search term and I know for a fact the hobgoblin sent you here to do this to me on purpose. Ask your _boyfriend_ what he intends to do with them.”

“Yeah, Spock is more of a hands-on teacher.” Jim told him, causing Bones to shudder and glare threateningly. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” Jim threw up his hands defensively, sitting up on the biobed with a little rush of blood to his head. If he stuck around any longer he was afraid Bones might show him just what one of these sounding rods was for too, and he doubted it would be much fun with him at all.

 

~~~

 

Jim watched the porn in front of him with a sort of horrified fascination. That... should not fit in there. And why would you want it to, even if it did? He was naked on his bed with his personal PADD on the sheets as he watched the sounding video, with said sounding rods arrayed before him. Because of course he’d hacked into Spock’s lock box again and retrieved the torture devices to get a better look at their shape and size. There were three in total, ranging from “slightly less terrifying” (on the smaller end) to “holy shit” at the largest.

He looked up when he heard Spock come through the main door, and continued to glance worried from his PADD to the entrance of the sleep alcove as Spock followed the tell-tale sounds of porn to the bed. Spock arched his brow at the sight before him and sighed. “You broke into my box.”

“Maybe?”

“I take it you’ve deduced the purpose of those?”

“Bones told me.” Jim bit his lip and winced at the video still playing in front of him.

Spock smirked. He was certain McCoy had hated that discussion. Well, some clouds had silver linings. He moved forward and shut off the porn in front of Jim.

“There is no way those are going in my dick.” Jim protested before Spock could say a word.

“Very well.” Spock acquiesced easily.

“Just like that?” Jim asked.

“Of course. If you’d rather not pursue an activity, then we shall not.”

“You’re not even going to try and talk me into it?”

“Negative.”

Jim pouted. “But you’re supposed to be all Vulcan and logical and be like ‘I can make them fit’ and it’ll be equal parts sexy and terrifying.”

“I could indeed make them fit.” Spock acknowledged. “However, I will not without your consent.”

“Spock you clearly do not understand how this whole exchange is supposed to work. You’re making it so I practically have to convince you to do it to me.”

“Indeed.” Spock answered with a raised brow. Spock set Jim’s PADD aside and began his own coming home routine: setting boots in the closet, removing his uniform shirt but leaving his black undershirt, changing into more comfortable lounge pants. Jim’s eyes tracked him all the while.

“Okay, fine.” Jim said in frustration, as if Spock had twisted his arm on the subject. “You can try to insert the smallest one, but if I sense even the slightest physical discomfort we stop.”

“There is no need to attempt this sort of play at all, _t’hy’la_.” Spock reassured him. “And certainly no need to rush into it right now.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve just spent the last hour and a half watching porn of this. There is _every_ reason to try it now. Now come on!” he demanded bossily. “If I can take a fist up the ass I can probably take this metal thing in my dick.”

“If you are certain.”

“Absolutely.” Jim answered with a determined set to his jaw. Now he _had_ to do it, to prove a point. Or something.

Spock eyed the sounding rods on the dirty bedspread and winced. Jim had thought enough to get out lube, at least. He sighed and went to the bathroom to rummage around for a moment, returning with disinfectant, a clean towel, and an unopened bottle of lubricant. He thoroughly cleaned the sounding rods before setting them upon the towel, disinfected his hands again for good measure, and even swiped the head of Jim’s dick quickly before he could protest too much.

“Is that strictly necessary?” Jim asked, wanting to rub his dick to get the uncomfortable wet, cold feeling to go away.

“Yes.” Spock answered, swatting his hand away. “Unless you would prefer a urinary tract infection?”

Jim frowned worriedly and for once, refrained from touching anything. “Is that a real danger?”

“It is a risk.” Spock said, pausing to give him a level stare. “Do you wish to proceed?”

“Y-yeah.” Jim said, a bit less certainly than before. “I trust you.” he added. And he did trust Spock. His Vulcan wouldn’t do anything to him that was actually dangerous. Or at the very least, he trusted Spock to assess the risks and keep him as safe as possible, considering. And Spock _did_ just disinfect things. Clearly, he was on top of this. At least one of them was. Perhaps Jim should have “researched” sounding with more than just porn.

“Stroke yourself until fully erect.” Spock told him. “Just keep away from the head.”

Jim really should have felt more turned on about Spock ordering him to touch himself, but he mostly felt nervous and a bit curious. He watched as Spock lubed up the smallest metal rod.

“You’ve researched this, right?” Jim asked nervously.

“Of course.”

“Right.” Jim nodded to himself. Of course Spock had researched it, probably more than was even necessary. He doubted Bones knew more about the procedure than Spock did, or else Spock wouldn’t risk doing this to him now. He wondered how it might feel. The man in the porn certainly seemed to like it, but he might have been paid to react that way.

He didn’t have long to wonder. He held his cock steady in his fist as Spock pressed the cold wet tip of the sound to his opening. Assured that it was lined up and well lubed, Spock began just the gentlest pressure as it stretched Jim and slipped inside.

Jim hissed in discomfort -- at the stretch, at the cold, at just the basic _weirdness_ of it. Things did not get pressed _into_ dicks!

Spock paused immediately. “Are you experiencing physical discomfort?”

“Sort of?” Jim answered vaguely. “It doesn’t really hurt though.” he conceded. “You can keep going.”

Spock kept a careful eye on Jim’s reactions as he worked the rod deeper into Jim’s cock. It really was fascinating to see the thin metal rod disappearing. It wasn’t long or thick, by any means. It was a perfectly reasonable size for a first attempt, or at least he thought so from his research and his observation of how easily it slid into Jim. But of course Spock had no real basis for comparison. His own cock wouldn’t erect, making it all but impossible for him to try it himself, and he’d certainly never done this to anyone else.

Judging by Jim’s reactions and what he could glean from touch telepathy alone, the sensation was foreign, but not yet pleasant. All of his research into the topic, however, had depicted sounding as quite a pleasurable activity for those who engaged in it, and the medical reasoning for such pleasure held up to mental scrutiny.

When it was fully inserted, Jim simply stared at himself, blinking owlishly. His heart hammered in his chest but he fought off the slight sense of rising panic. He was okay. Nothing hurt. Nothing bad was happening. Physically, there was a slight burn, and a weird stretch, and a sense of the foreign object impaling his dick. Yes, all of that was true. But it was hardly the most uncomfortable sensation he’d had. Really, his first fumbling attempts to get a finger in his ass years ago had been much more painful.

A metal ball on the end of the rod reassured Jim that the thing wouldn’t simply slip fully into his body, never to be found again. It was safe. He was safe. And Spock was there, always checking in on his every reaction.

Jim stroked himself slowly to maintain his erection, though there was little chance of him losing it with a metal rod stuck inside of him, he thought a bit hysterically.

“Is it pleasurable?” Spock asked curiously.

“Not really?” Jim answered uncertainly. Then Spock gave the rod a little _twist_ inside of him. “Okay, that was.” he quickly amended, feeling shaky and slightly out of breath from the sudden jolt of pleasure it sent zinging through him.

When Spock pulled it out slowly, then pressed it in again, then again, the weird stretch and burn of it faded away, though the slight terror of having something stuffed in his cock remained. Still, the sensations building within him were most definitely shifting rapidly toward pleasure, and Jim couldn’t help the groan that worked its way out of his throat as he closed his eyes. It was like jacking himself off from the inside, and it was wild.

Soon, Jim’s breathing deepened, and he relinquished his cock entirely to Spock’s nimble hands, as he was stroked from within and without. With his eyes closed, it was easier to lose himself in the sensations and not focus too closely on what caused them. It was like the wildest handjob Spock had given him to date, and without the disturbing image the metal rod presented it was easy to believe, just for a moment, that Spock was responsible for the unique drag of sensation coming from within him -- some Vulcan trick perhaps that he’d only just discovered.

When Jim finally came with a hoarse grunt, Spock was quick to pull the rod fully out, allowing the passage of ejaculate and ripping one final wave of pleasure the length of Jim’s dick. Jim panted as if he’d run a marathon. “That was... wow.” he blinked down at his cock, as if it would look different somehow after all it had been through. But it still looked just the same. Spock gently released him and moved to clean up.

“I take it that means you approve?” Spock asked. Jim had certainly been turned on enough. That much he could easily tell.

“Approve might be too strong of a word.” Jim answered, still trying to wrap his head around the practice of sounding. It was still fairly terrifying, and he wasn’t sure any longer why he’d been so adamant that Spock try it with him, and try it _now_. But he was also kind of glad he’d done it. It had definitely felt incredible. “As for doing it again....” he shook his head in bewilderment. “Maybe on special occasions?”

“Noted.” Spock answered with a slight quirk of his lips, amusement dancing in his eyes. He’d been fairly certain that Jim would be mentally uncomfortable with such an act, as seemed to be the most common response in humans toward this particular sort of play. He hadn’t been wrong in his assumption, but as always he would have to remember not to underestimate Jim and his endless search for all that was new and novel. Or his stubborn streak once an idea had entered his mind.

And actually, perhaps that meant he should do a bit more shopping, and leave some more unusual toys in places Jim was sure to find them. It was rather entertaining to witness the results, and Jim only brought these things onto himself.

 


	27. Catharsis

Jim slammed his fist into the punching bag again. And again. And again. He worked himself until his muscles screamed and sweat dripped from him, and even then thought about going until he collapsed from exhaustion. He wanted to collapse from exhaustion. He wanted to burn out the sick feeling twisting in his gut, crawling under his skin.

Two crew members, dead. On his watch. And twenty civilians. He thought fleetingly that he should be more concerned about the civilians than anything. After all, they were Starfleet on this ship -- they’d signed up for the danger of their jobs, and civilians were in many ways defenseless. They relied upon people like himself to save them.

And they had saved them, most of them. The mission had been considered a success. They’d swooped in and saved the day just as they’d been ordered to do, trained to do. But he’d lost two of his crew members, people directly in his command and under his care, and the guilt of that gnawed at him. It’d been two days since the whole fiasco ended. Loose ends were tied up, messages had been sent out to crew members’ families, funeral services held. There was nothing else to be done about it, but Jim couldn’t shake that sick feeling that he’d fucked this up somehow. That he’d done wrong, and nobody could see it. No one would admit it aloud. He was so sick of being treated like a goddamned hero. There was no way he deserved it.

He stared at the punching bag in front of him. Bones would give him an earful if he had to be dragged to the infirmary for exhaustion, or a torn muscle, or bruised knuckles. He hauled himself into the showers instead. No one was here this late into Gamma shift, and he took solace in a moment of solitude on a crowded ship.

Vaguely he wondered if it was against Bones’ rules to stand under scalding hot water, just this side of actually burning him. He did it anyway, trying to think of some way to exorcise this demon. He couldn’t go on like this. Well, he _could_ , indefinitely, but not while being a good captain. It was a distraction, and he had to find a way to move on.

As he stretched his screaming back and arms, he thought about Bones’ lectures on punishing himself this way. But it was that or stop eating, and he wasn’t sure he could stand the stress that came with fasting of any sort -- self imposed or not. Surely the exercise was healthier. And the scalding water soothed over-taxed muscles. It wasn’t really self punishment.

Punishment. That made him think about something very different for a moment, something that hadn’t been a part of his world at all just months ago. The image of Spock and an acrylic paddle came to mind. They didn’t really have that sort of relationship, he knew. Their roles were a convenience to spice up their sex lives now and again, never terribly serious. There were no rules to adhere to, except those that pertained to limits and limitations. But it _could_ be that kind of relationship. Just once. Spock was always so willing to do anything for him. Maybe he’d be willing to do this.

But would Jim be willing to ask? And would it help? Or would the whole thing leave them feeling weird? Shutting off the water, he already knew that he’d made his decision.

 

~~~

 

He picked a time when he knew that Spock would be out in order to prepare. He didn’t think he could bring it up when they were already together. The transition would be jarring.

So instead Jim waited, and when Spock walked into their room that evening, the first thing he saw was Jim in his makeshift collar, kneeling in the center of the bed, head lowered submissively. Spock paused to observe him. Even when Jim had worn the collar once before, it hadn’t been like this. There was a tension in the room, a level of seriousness that was typically missing from their interactions. Jim was a light-hearted, hyperactive individual. But he’d noticed how the stress and losses of the past days had affected Jim deeply, and he had to assume that that had something to do with the tension in the air right now.

Jim swallowed thickly, aware Spock was surveying him, but unwilling to look up and meet Spock’s eyes. It would be awkward. Asking... was awkward.

“Jim.” Spock said softly to get Jim’s attention, and Jim looked up at him, his eyes pleading for something.

“Please?” he asked quietly. He picked up the acrylic paddle that had been lying on the bed before him, and he held it out toward Spock with both hands.

Spock took the paddle from Jim hesitantly. He had a lot of questions, but wasn’t certain he’d get clear answers. “Why?” he asked simply, but didn’t say no.

Jim’s eyes darted around as he worried his lip between his teeth. How to answer? How to explain the _thing_ inside his skin, clawing to get out? “Because....” he answered helplessly. “Someone has to.” Someone had to punish him for what he’d done, or failed to do. Someone had to treat him as he was, with less than hero worship. Someone had to... absolve him.

“You don’t need this.” Spock tried to reason, petting his long fingers through Jim’s hair. To reassure Jim. To reassure himself. To pick up some small amount of what Jim was thinking, feeling. The vague impressions he received were in line with what he’d already assumed. Jim always felt too much responsibility for everyone else’s well-being but his own. Too much guilt. It wasn’t deserved, but it was understandable.

“I want it.” Jim said certainly, his jaw firming a bit in defiance. Perhaps he didn’t need it, but he wanted it, and he was capable of deciding that much for himself. It was up to Spock whether he thought he was willing to give it.

“We’ll stop when I say stop.” Spock told him seriously. “And it will be over.”

Jim nodded his understanding. His agreement. It was clear to them both that Spock didn’t just mean the scene, or the spanking, or whatever it was they were doing here. The event would be over as well. The guilt. The demons would be banished, and it was now in Spock’s hands. Jim hoped that his resolve to agree to the terms would be enough. That it would work as described.

“Stand at the foot of the bed.” Spock directed. “Lean over the edge.” He helped Jim into position, pressing his back so that his torso laid flat against the mattress, ass up and exposed. Spock moved Jim’s arms to stretch above his head, hands clutched in the sheets. This was a far cry from lying over Spock’s lap. It was less personal, less intimate somehow. But it felt fitting.

When Jim was arranged, Spock stood behind him, surveying the man and clearing his own mind. He shucked off his uniform shirt and his boots, taking his time before he finally moved forward to gently pet Jim’s bare cheeks.

Jim’s heart hammered in his chest, though he’d done this before. He hated the moment of anticipation. He always wanted to simply leap -- the waiting was unbearable. But he did his best to steady his breaths and to wait. He was in Spock’s hands now, he told himself. All of this was. And Spock would take care of everything.

There was no warm up this time, and Jim hissed at just how much pain such a small bit of plastic could deliver. He’d been in bar fights, broken limbs, been hit with a phaser on stun more than once. But there was something uniquely sharp about the strike of that paddle on his exposed ass. Perhaps it was the vulnerability, perhaps it was simply the setting -- seeing it coming, and not fighting it. Whatever it was, it made him wince and writhe on the bed, though a part of him relished in the pain of it. He’d never really considered himself to be a masochist. At times, he could complain about even a paper cut, depending on his mood. So it wasn’t about that really. But something about the steady _thwack_ , the spark of fire blooming across him and spreading to a dull burn, it burned his guilt clean. His breathing came easier as Spock went, as something tight in his chest released.

Vaguely, Jim was aware that he might have hitched a few shuddering breaths, just on the verge of tears. He wasn’t a big crier, but the catharsis of the moment definitely released something he’d pent up. He told himself again and again, when Spock was finished, it would be finished. The event would be behind him. The pain would be at an end. The physical aspect of the punishment wasn’t the difficult part for him to handle. It was everything that it stood for that really got to Jim.

When Spock stopped, Jim’s head felt fuzzy, and he blinked his eyes open again. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them. Distantly, he felt that Spock was petting his inflamed flesh, murmuring something in comforting tones. Aftercare. A blanket, water. Something to eat. Cuddles. It was a pattern he was familiar with as he came back to himself, though this was the first time he’d experienced it without the accompanying orgasm, without that heady sensation of flying. This time, he only felt sort of muzzy, but cleaner. Steadier than before.

“It is over, _t’nash-veh._ ” Spock murmured to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

Over. The scene was over. The punishment was over. Jim tried to wrap his mind around it as his head slowly cleared. Two crew members were dead. But the mission was over, and everyone had already moved on. Life had moved on. He’d find a way to move on too. Now that he’d atoned. He hoped that some sort of cosmic balance had been restored, even if it were only a few swats of plastic on his ass, barely reddening the flesh. A few minutes of catharsis.

Tomorrow, he would be the captain again. Tonight, he’d put himself in Spock’s hands. He was glad that for now, he could simply trust, and exist.

 


	28. Six Months

“Uhura!” Jim called after the lieutenant as she slid her lunch tray onto a free table. She looked up with slight annoyance, a brow quirked.

“Captain.” she said levelly, focusing most of her attention her food. It was her lunch break. She really did not get paid enough to deal with James Kirk off hours.

“Not ‘Captain’.” Jim hurried to say as he slid onto the bench across from her. “I’m on break.”

If he was on break, Uhura wondered, why was he talking to her? She didn’t ask.

Jim pulled apart a bit of a muffin and popped it into his mouth, surveying Uhura’s selections. He’d already eaten his own lunch, technically, but he could find enough muffins and bits of things to keep him occupied now that he was joining Uhura.

“Listen, I could use some advice. About Spock.”

Uhura’s mouth seemed to become even sterner for a minute, Jim thought, but that was impossible really because she was eating. He wasn’t sure what he’d keyed into.

“What you do with Spock is none of my business.”

“Right.” Jim waved dismissively. “But it’s our anniversary soon. Six months.”

Uhura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Jim Kirk was seriously the type of person to celebrate a six month anniversary? Really? Shorter than a year wasn’t worth mentioning. She vaguely suspected he’d be one of those that people to talk about his children's ages in terms of months one day, once they were past the year mark.

“Congratulations.” she said as sincerely as she could. Which came off as kind of flat, because she really didn’t care, but she didn’t want to come off as unnecessarily hostile. Even if she still had no idea why James Kirk was talking to her during her lunch break. Internally, she sighed.

“Thanks.” Jim grinned. “So I was wondering what you thought would be a suitable six month anniversary gift for a Vulcan.”

Uhura blinked at him. “I don’t know what to tell you. Do Vulcans even celebrate six month anniversaries?” she asked with a puzzled frown. “Either way, gifts usually don’t go down that well. They’re considered ‘illogical’. And you guys aren’t bonded so I’m not sure that dating counts anyway.”

Jim frowned. “Spock’s half human and we celebrate six month anniversaries.”

Uhura shrugged. Spock had never seemed to keen on his human half when they’d been together, but maybe he’d mellowed out slightly since dating Kirk. He’d almost have to. “I got him a few things while we together but he never seemed to care much. I just never got the impression Spock was big on material possessions. And I’m not sure whether Vulcans have love languages like humans do but I’d guess gift-giving isn’t one of Spock’s. At least it didn’t seem it to me.”

“I was thinking of getting him something related to Vulcan.” Jim mused aloud. “But there’s not a lot I can get my hands on, obviously.” he frowned a bit. The tragedy was still too big to look at head-on. “So then I thought maybe I could program the food synthesizers to make some sort of Vulcan dish. There’s got to be a program online somewhere I could make work on our equipment. Do you know any Vulcan foods Spock liked?”

“You guys have been together six months. Why don’t you know this stuff?”

“We never really talk about Vulcan stuff much. That was you guys’ thing.”

Uhura sighed in annoyance, but it did make sense. “Vulcan spice tea is already in there, but he used to take _kreyla_ with his tea at a  cafe off campus. It’s a sort of bread.”

“Thank you!” Jim grinned. “You are awesome.” He went back to his muffin, pretty excited about the prospect of getting Spock something he’d actually like. He still had a few days to find a recipe online and format it to the synthesizers.

“You know, I’m surprised you guys lasted so long.” Uhura told him after a few moments focused mostly on her food.

“Really? Why? We’re like perfect for each other.”

“Frankly, I didn’t think you of all people could abstain that long.”

“Abstain?” Jim asked, brow furrowing in genuine confusion for a moment. “Oh. Oh!” His eyes widened. “No, we have tons of sex. Great sex.”

It was Uhura’s turn to frown in confusion. Her first instinct was to claim Kirk was a liar, because old instincts died hard and her first instinct was usually to blame James Kirk for something. But no, he wouldn’t lie about that. Not with his genuine confusion at first and his genuine smile now. Her next thought was to be angry at Spock, because obviously the Vulcan _was_ able to have sex, and it had been a major contributing factor to their breakup. Not the only factor, but certainly a major one. But no, Spock wasn’t known for lying either. Which meant... what? It was Spock that supposedly couldn’t get it up, though. Did that mean Jim was just mindlessly using her ex-boyfriend as some sort of... thing? To get off in? The idea of it twisted her stomach with disgust and indignation on Spock’s behalf. It couldn’t be healthy, if that was the case.

“So you... what?” she asked hesitantly. “Just... do your thing to him?” she glanced around to make sure that no one could overhear them, but they were entirely alone in their little corner and talking quietly.

Jim blinked. “I mean, we _have._ Not that it’s any of your business. Besides, didn’t you just say you didn’t want to know about what Spock and I did?”

Uhura threw up her hands defensively, as if she really didn’t want to know, eyes wide in that I’m-not-judging-you-but-I-really-am-judging way.

“Not that it’s _any_ of your business,” Jim reiterated, “but for your information, Spock usually tops. You totally missed out on a Vulcan sex god.” he bragged.

She was just on the brink of asking _how_. It was on the tip of her tongue, because she really wanted to know, but it wasn’t any of her business. Jim could see the question that Uhura struggled not to ask.

“Just gotta think outside the box.” he answered her unspoken question, and gave her a wink. And with that, he dismissed himself from her table to let her get back to her lunch. For now, he had some searching to do for a _kreyla_ synthesizer program.

 

~~~

 

Jim finished up the last touches of his surprise for Spock. One of the benefits of Spock always overworking himself in the labs was it meant that Jim often had time before Spock got back to plan a surprise. This time, he’d set up a bunch of Spock’s meditation candles in his sleeping alcove for ambiance. He’d gotten out some massage oil, because this was meant to be about Spock, but he’d left out their toy box in case Spock wanted to do anything in particular to Jim.

On the bedside table was a thermos of Vulcan spice tea and a plate of freshly synthesized _kreyla_. The tea would keep warm in the thermos until after the massage but they’d have to make do with cool _kreyla_.

Now he simply waited naked on the bed for Spock to show up, which didn’t take long. The Vulcan always arrived promptly at the time he said he would.

“Happy Anniversary!” Jim shouted, arms over head when Spock walked into the room and surveyed his surroundings.

“I had not realized that the six month mark was a significant milestone.” Spock admitted. “I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I had not prepared a similar surprise for you.”

“That’s okay.” Jim assured. “I didn’t think you would. But I wanted to do something nice.” he knelt up on the mattress and pulled Spock closer for a kiss, then started to work him out of his clothes. “Come get naked with me.” Jim urged. “I’ve got massage oil and that tea you like and _kreyla_.”

“So I had noticed.” Spock smiled slightly at Jim’s enthusiasm, and pulled back to more efficiently undress. He surveyed the bedside table. “How did you obtain _kreyla_?” He employed some of his Vulcan discipline to not dig into it right away. It would wait. But he was eager to have some after so long. It was touching that Jim would find him something of home. His heart twinged in his side and he tried not to think about it too hard. Set it aside.

“Uhura told me you liked it, so I figured out how to program the food synthesizers for it. Now you can have it whenever you want.”

Spock slid onto the mattress to join Jim, settling them in for a longer kiss. “Thank you _t’hy’la_.” he said sincerely. Gifts were still largely a mystery to him, but he appreciated the sentiment. And Jim had carefully chosen to give him things that he truly did enjoy. He made a mental note to reciprocate better for their next anniversary. Which hopefully was at the one year mark. He may have to do further research to be sure.

“You’re welcome.” Jim answered easily, leaning in for more kisses. Only when they were both breathless did he pull away. “I had pretty much just planned to give you a massage next, unless you wanted something else. And then snacks.”

“It is your anniversary, too.” Spock pointed out.

“True... but right now doesn’t have to be about me.”

“Very well.” Spock acquiesced, but already his mind sifted through ways to make it good for Jim later. He allowed himself to be maneuvered onto his front as Jim set to work on the massage. It truly was a treat and not something Spock indulged in very often.

Jim worked his way over Spock, taking his time and simply enjoying touching. It wasn’t that he wasn’t aroused -- he was nearly always aroused when doing something with Spock -- but it wasn’t that important. It was just nice to be able to touch, and smell, and taste. He pressed little kisses across Spock as well, as slowly but surely Spock turned into a Vulcan-shaped puddle. He gently urged Spock to turn over when it was time, and spent an inordinate amount of time on Spock’s sensitive hands and fingers before focusing on the rest of him.

Though Spock didn’t have much patience for the massage after the hands. He pulled Jim to him for more kisses -- both Vulcan style and human. He reached for the bottle of massage oil. It wasn’t as good as actual lube, but it would do. Spock coated a finger and worked it gently into Jim’s hole, delighting in the eager clench, shift of hips, soft gasp.

They took their time. There was no urgency that night. Spock was a relaxed puddle in the bed and Jim was content with the gentle stroke of two of Spock’s long fingers inside of him. He was sure he could drink in the sensation of it forever. But of course it came to an end as he spilled between them, sighing into Spock’s mouth.

“Happy Anniversary, _t’hy’la_.” Spock murmured against Jim’s lips, pulling his hand free.

Jim smiled and reached for some tissues, eyeing up the bedside table as he did so. “I don’t suppose you’ll break the no-eating-in-bed rule for _kreyla_?” he prompted.

“Perhaps once.” Spock relented with a put-upon sigh, secretly eager for the treat. Jim simply grinned and reached for the thermos and plate.

 


	29. Feeding

Jim was feeling satisfied and more than a bit smug. The mission with the Taulirans had gone off without a hitch. He was _not_ a complete failure at diplomacy, and Star Fleet could suck it. For once, it seemed, fate had smiled upon him and he’d found a race that was more than happy to make first contact with them and not immediately want to kill them all. It had been a great day of meetings, tours, and mutual good cheer, and now he and his landing party were sprawled on an alien floor filled with pillows and low tables, ready to celebrate with a final celebratory feast. What could possibly go wrong? The dancers and music boded well.

Jim’s eyes lit up as he caught Spock’s tolerant disapproval of him watching the dancers. Jim grinned, but brushed his fingers against Spock’s own in quick reassurance. He would look, but it wouldn’t mean anything. And besides, Spock had him wearing that ridiculous chastity device again anyway. Not that Jim was complaining. It had been a while since they’d played that game.

The food and drink was finally brought out and placed around on the various low tables -- many small dishes of finger foods that filled the wooden surface of the table to capacity, along with an array of drinks. He was all set to reach for something to eat when he noticed the Taulirans at the table next to him with a start. It was pretty hard to miss such an obvious public display, as one of them hand fed the other. He blinked in surprise as he glanced around the room to see all of the Taulirans doing likewise, and luckily he caught the eyes of the rest of his crew sharing the table with him. All of them had noticed before tucking in to their dishes.

This seemed simply to be the way things were done here. The Taulirans had all paired off and were hand feeding one another bits of the bite sized food in what looked to Jim to be a somewhat intimate manner. But he knew for a fact that not all of them were romantic couples. He thought some were, though one pairing seemed to have a sort of indifferent vibe of colleagues or friends, and he was nearly certain one match was between brother and sister. With a shrug, he offered a bite to Spock, smirking slightly as the Vulcan blushed for just a second, then took the offered food delicately.

Jim smirked. When in Taulira, do as the Taulirans. It wouldn’t kill them, after all. Uhura rolled her eyes and turned toward Sulu with a quirked brow. He smiled back in good enough humour and fed her a bit of some of the alien food. His husband would get a kick out of this story.

Next to Sulu, McCoy turned his scowl toward Chekhov, though Chekhov looked excited. He opened his mouth at Bones eagerly, and McCoy grumbled and shoved something in it gracelessly as Chekhov tried not to choke or laugh.

Jim hid his own laughter as he parted his lips gently to accept a morsel from Spock. After that, he had eyes only for the Vulcan. He suddenly couldn’t imagine why they’d never done this before, though it did feel a bit odd to be doing it in uniform and in full view of everyone. Particularly his mind was on the sensitivity of Spock’s fingers, every time he licked away a crumb or bit of sauce, each time his plush lips closed around those digits and sucked them gently, just for a moment. Or when his teeth lightly scraped over the skin and Spock suppressed a shiver of pleasure.

Jim was most arroused when accepting the food from Spock, but it was equally enjoyable to feed him. Spock’s own lips were so thin, and his bites so neat and delicate. His tongue was something Jim was intimately familiar with by now as well. Less wet than his own, and with a different texture to it -- slightly rougher if he had to describe it. Just different enough for him to notice.

The food itself seemed designed to entice as well. Flavours and textures exploded across his tongue, each bite a new culinary adventure. Jim had never been much of a “foodie”. He was more of a meat and potatoes kind of guy if he had to choose his own meals, and after Tarsus IV he was usually fine with whatever was being served to him. That included everything from synthesized food cubes to gourmet meals. But even someone with such unrefined tastes as himself could appreciate the adventure that the Taulirans had designed with these courses. Tart, then savoury. Sweet, then salty, played across his tongue. One bite had the crumble of dry cake and another burst with juice when he bit into it.

Of course the meal couldn’t last forever, and before Jim knew it the time had flown past. The dishes were empty and they were all saying their goodbyes as they beamed back to the ship for the night. Jim’s mind, however, was still on the intimacy of sharing food with Spock, and had shifted to what other fun things they could do involving food. More traditional things, involving whipped cream, or honey, or chocolate sauce.

 

~~~

 

Spock stepped into the sleep alcove that evening as he usually did, and gave Jim a tolerant, bemused look. Jim was already naked on the bed, with an array of what appeared to be food products lined up on the bedside table. Living with Jim Kirk never got boring. “I take this to mean you have made plans.” Spock stated simply, hands already moving to the hem of his shirt.

“You want to be the one licking or the one with food on you?” Jim asked. “Or would you rather take turns?”

Spock surveyed the food options on the bedside table. Chocolate sauce, honey, and some sort of strawberry syrup had been what Jim had managed to scrounge up. All terribly sticky, and Spock didn’t relish the idea of the residue they’d leave behind if Jim were to apply them to him. He finished undressing and pressed Jim back onto the bed, pleased to see Jim had at least had the forethought to throw a spare sheet down for such messy play. He would not sleep in a sticky mess. “I shall apply them to you.” he instructed as Jim let himself be pushed down with an easy smile.

“In that case, use the chocolate sauce.” Jim encouraged.

“I assure you, I need not become intoxicated in order to enjoy you, my Jim.” he argued, reaching instead for the strawberry syrup. Although with any one of the options, the sugar rush would probably make him slightly buzzed. At least this was the extent of their play this evening, and there were no safety concerns requiring him at the top of his game.

He surveyed Jim’s body before him, considering the best places for application of the sticky liquid. He assumed that it should be somewhere erotic, or else it would defeat the purpose of the exercise. At any rate, it was good they hadn’t used his body for the endeavour, as his nipples weren’t particularly responsive when compared to Jim’s, and if any of the sugary substance got near his genital pouch there was the risk of infection.

No, for now, he would start with the most obvious target to his mind. He squeezed the tiniest blob of red out of the bottle and directly onto Jim’s bottom lip as Jim’s eyes sparkled up at him. Jim’s tongue darted out just a touch to have a taste, still leaving most of the sweet in place. The tongue was all the more enticing, and Spock vowed to divest it of its sticky treat as well as he leaned in for a kiss, licking eagerly into Jim’s mouth.

When Spock had finished his thorough exploration he pulled back. Jim was satisfactorily breathless as he stared up. “Are you good at everything you try?” Jim questioned.

“You shall have to be my judge in that, _t’hy’la_.” he answered. “Although I suspect you may be biased.”

Jim huffed a laugh. “Maybe.”

Spock carefully poured some of the sauce on Jim’s nipples though Jim gave a derisive snort. “You can’t avoid getting sticky at all.” he informed Spock, though Spock only quirked a brow.

“I am fairly certain that I can.”

“Nuh-uh. If I’m getting sticky, so are you. At least use your fingers to spread it around.” he urged, a glint in his eyes. “I’ll clean them off. Promise.”

Spock gave him a look that clearly stated I-know-what-you-are-doing, but he complied, pressing one of his digits into the gooey mess and circling it teasingly over and around Jim’s nipples, one after the other, delighting in the aroused hitches in Jim’s breath. When he’d finished teasing, Jim grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to his parted lips, doing his own thorough job of divesting his sensitive finger of the syrup.

Spock worked his way across Jim’s body in this manner, pausing between each part for Jim to clean his fingers thoroughly. Nipples, then bellybutton, then a bit in the hollow of a hip. Finally down the length of Jim’s cock which was now fully erect, and over his balls, down to the perineum and finally well into Jim’s crack where he lingered, in spite of the awkward angle. By then, Jim was thoroughly turned on and Spock was fairly buzzed from sugar intake. He was warm and relaxed, and took his time exploring every inch of Jim’s sensitive hole with his tongue while his sticky hand stroked over Jim’s erect cock.

Jim was so keyed up by then that it didn’t take him long to come wetly over Spock’s fist. He pulled the Vulcan up again, licking the fingers clean of ejaculate as eagerly as he’d done with the syrup, leaving Spock fairly breathless as well.

“You sure you don’t want to break open that chocolate sauce?” Jim asked with a twinkle to his eyes. “I’ve got a bottle of whiskey stashed away. I could join you pretty fast.”

“Negative.” Spock said with an affectionate eye roll and lazy smile. “I believe instead a shower is in order.”

“You don’t want to lay here and bask in the afterglow?” Jim asked with a pout.

“I would prefer first that neither of us remain covered with a sticky residue.”

Jim sighed, but had figured as much. He dragged himself out of the bed to follow Spock. Shower first, then he’d clean up the small mess they’d made, throw the spare sheet in the laundry. But then, definitely post-orgasm cuddles were on his list. And maybe that bottle of whiskey if Spock didn’t perk up soon. Jim was definitely not going to remain the only sober one between them.

 


	30. Silk

Jim trailed behind Spock in the alien marketplace, idly picking up this or that -- mostly sparkly junk that would look good on the corner of a desk but that he didn’t need. Spock, meanwhile, was picking through a pile of tunics like a man actually intent on buying. Jim sighed. He really wasn’t a big shopper, and he hadn’t realized that Spock was. He almost wished he’d sent Spock off with Uhura for this little shopping trip as it was now well into their second hour and he was painfully bored. Spock had made the mistake of asking his opinion on a piece of clothing at one point, and had relented at Jim’s totally blank look.

Jim’s own wardrobe had been largely t-shirts that had been gifts or he’d gotten at conferences. Pants were bought at whatever store was cheapest and nearest, and the same could be said for socks, underwear, and shoes. Now that he was a fully fledged adult with a real job -- thank god the job provided him with a uniform. It meant he had even less shopping to worry about.

Spock though... Spock actually had a personal wardrobe with a sizeable collection of clothes, all of which were rather nice. And now he was picking through tunics.

Jim took a closer look at what had taken Spock’s eye. A shirt. It was black. Well, that would fit in with a the rest of Spock’s wardrobe, which from what Jim could tell was mostly black. It was also shiny, a particularly silky and decadent material. Jim fingered it curiously, and was surprised just how slippery it felt. He couldn’t imagine the special care instructions that must come with something like that.

As Spock paid for his purchase, Jim reconsidered Spock’s personal wardrobe in a new light. All of it was soft, remarkably so. He wondered vaguely if it was a Vulcan thing or if it was just a Spock thing, but his Vulcan seemed to prefer only the softest and smoothest of textures against his skin. Jim had just never really noticed before, never thought about it. But this silk tunic really did get him thinking. About how scratchy the Starfleet uniforms were by comparison. And about some other choice silk items he might get for Spock.

 

~~~

 

“Do you like it?” Jim asked nervously, as Spock peered into the tiny box, one brow quirked as always.

Spock pulled out the small, silky garment to better inspect it. “Panties.” he said flatly. “You wish me to dress in women’s underwear.” He wasn’t judging, but it was definitely not something he’d ever considered, and it wasn’t in keeping with his mental model of Jim.

“You like silky things.” Jim pouted. “And Starfleet briefs are hardly silky. What do Vulcans wear for underwear normally?”

“They do not.” Spock said simply.

Jim’s eyes widened at that, considering the stoic race in a new light. Just how many of them were commando under those robes? He was getting distracted. “Wait, then why do you wear briefs?”

“They are part of the uniform.” Spock answered simply. “And they are a typical component of human clothing.”

“Well, now you have silky ones.” Jim said simply, as if the topic was closed.

“Do you harbour some desire to see me in women's clothing?” Spock asked curiously.

“Uhmm....” Jim answered, drawing a blank. He didn’t want to see Spock in drag, but the idea of him in the panties held some real appeal, so maybe? Why did Spock always have to ask such complicated questions? He hadn’t given it enough thought yet to have a clear understanding of his own motivations.

“If you are endeavouring to perceive me as the more feminine partner, you will be disappointed.” Spock pointed out. Though he didn’t _think_ that was it, because he knew that Jim had dated men before. “Unless it is that you see me as the more feminine partner already.” he mused aloud. “Considering my impotence, or my genital configuration.”

“Oh my god, Spock.” Jim cut him off. “You’re way over-thinking this.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Of course you are. You’re pretty much a genius who never stops thinking. Look, I think the underwear would look hot on you, and I noticed that you like silky clothes. You don’t have to wear them.” He reached out to snatch them back but Spock pulled them out of Jim’s reach.

“I did not say that I didn’t want them.” he corrected.

“So you do want them then.” Jim clarified, already picturing Spock in the silky garment again.

“Perhaps.” Spock said simply, putting the underwear back in the tiny box they’d come in and setting it aside. “However, now is not the appropriate time to indulge in such speculation, as I have bridge duty in approximately four minutes.” He moved toward the door.

“Oh come on, you can’t leave things hanging like that.” Jim complained.

“Shall I see you for supper this evening?”

Jim sighed. “Maybe? Probably not though. I have a call scheduled with Starfleet Command around then and they tend to be long-winded.”

“In that case, I shall see you later tonight.” He reached out for a quick _ozh’esta,_ then took his leave.

 

~~~

 

When Jim finally returned to his room that night, it was rather late and he was a bit stressed, ready to just crawl into bed and relax. Spock was already in bed, propped against the headboard in his pyjamas with the blankets over his legs as he read something on his PADD. It was so achingly domestic and cozy. Jim wasted no time in stripping to his boxers so that he could curl up next to his Vulcan.

“Did the call go well?” Spock asked idly, not looking up from his reading, though he did lift an arm for Jim to snuggle in against him.

“As well as it ever goes.” Jim grumbled. “I think they hate me.”

“They do not hate you, _t’hy’la_. They are simply a  bureaucracy.”

“Yeah, well, bureaucracies suck.”

Spock smiled slightly. “I think you may have gotten into the wrong line of work.”

“I’m in the perfect line of work when I’m left alone to explore space. It’s really just the video calls that suck. I should make you handle them from now on. I can do that, right? I’m the captain so I make the rules.”

“Unfortunately, the admirals set the rules of who handles the video calls.” Spock replied dryly as Jim huffed in protest.

For a while, Jim was content to lay quietly against Spock while Spock read, but eventually he became restless, as always. First he pressed a kiss to Spock’s shoulder, then his neck because it was within easy reach, and his hand began to inch under Spock’s soft sleep shirt. It occurred to him that this would be so much better if Spock would get naked with him and they could lie skin to skin. Or as long as they were naked, he reasoned, they could definitely do some fooling around. He didn’t have a real aim, but that hardly stopped him.

Spock set his PADD on the bedside table with a fond roll of his eyes. “You are quite distracting.”

“You too, babe.” Jim said as he continued to pepper Spock with kisses, working the shirt further and further up Spock’s torso. “I can barely work with you bent over that science station most days.”

“Jim.” Spock admonished, though his eyes lit with amusement. He’d caught Jim looking multiple times, and though his behaviour was entirely inappropriate and unprofessional, he certainly wasn’t going to report it to anyone.

Spock raised his arms helpfully and allowed Jim to divest him of his shirt, then leaned in to welcome a kiss from Jim. He hadn’t been reading anything all that engrossing anyway, and spending time with his Jim was always preferable.

After kissing Spock within an inch of his life and pulling back to catch his breath, Jim reached down to work Spock’s sleep pants off. Spock was still wearing far too much clothing. Pants first, he thought hazily, then both their underwear, then he’d get out the lube and they’d go from there. Everything always got better once one of them broke out the lube.

He’d barely pulled down Spock’s pyjamas an inch, however, when his fingers brushed something distinctly slick and unfamiliar. His eyes darted down to the thin strip of silk he’d just revealed, and he suddenly couldn’t get Spock’s pyjama pants off fast enough. Jim yanked them off in a hurry and stared at the picture revealed to him. Spock was in panties. _The_ panties. That he’d bought for Spock. And they were black and silk and gorgeous and flush against Spock’s skin. They were women’s, it was true, but only because he hadn’t been able to find anything even remotely like this for men, which was a real shame. He didn’t want to make Spock into a woman by any means.

Regardless, Spock looked absolutely gorgeous. “Goddamn.” Jim breathed. “How could you _possibly_ wear them the entire time and not tell me?” he admonished.

“I thought they were meant to be a replacement for my usual garments.” Spock answered teasingly, knowing exactly what he’d done. He was a patient man, and the surprise had been worth waiting for. “They are quite comfortable.” he added nonchalantly.

“God, you look....” Jim felt his mouth go dry as he looked down at Spock, spread out before him in the bed. The silk hugged tight to him, and even with his retracted cock and the gentle mound of his genital pouch there was a slight bump in the smooth fabric indicating it was there, in a way distinctly different from any woman Jim had been with. They looked good on him, his slender hips and chiseled abs peeking up from above, muscled legs below. The happy trail and hairy thighs left no doubt as to Spock’s gender, and that was part of the appeal.

Spock felt his skin heat in slight embarrassment and pleasure at Jim’s obvious attraction to him in the silk garment. He had mixed feelings about the underwear himself. From a purely logical perspective, he had no complaint about them. Underwear were underwear, and he saw no logic in designating one style or fabric as suitable for women while another was suitable for men. And he did like the soft caress of the silk on his bare skin. They were a distinct improvement from the regular briefs he typically wore.

From the perspective of Jim’s arousal, however, he felt more complex. On the one hand, it was such a simple thing for him to do for Jim, to wear something so easy and enjoyable, which caused such a reaction in his mate. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but wonder _why_. He’d read about cross-dressing kinks and they made him distinctly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to express himself as anything other than the man he was, nor did he want to be perceived as such. And the fact that often such predilections were mixed up in humiliation play gave him serious concerns about the perception of women in Terran society.

He’d waited until he’d been alone to try on the panties, not wanting his own insecurities to be on display before Jim. They were soft. Snug. Comfortable.

Underwear had taken some getting used to for Spock. He actually had gotten through part of his time at Starfleet Academy without any at all. No one had worn them on Vulcan, not really. Certainly not when he was a child, though with cultural exchange all sorts of strange trends had caught on. It really wasn’t until he’d read the official Starfleet Uniform regulations that he’d realized he should be wearing the garment, and then he’d spent a full week researching to figure out why.

He’d had his choice at the time of the boxers or briefs. Briefs seemed to make the most sense, as all of his research indicated that the extra space given to boxers had to do with genital comfort. As his were mostly internal, he hadn’t seen the point. But like the rest of the Starfleet Uniform, there was one fabric option. Rough, synthetic, and just generally not that comfortable. Not that he needed such a luxury to do his job.

Spock though, unknown to most, was a sensualist at heart. He preferred soft fabrics, and high quality foods. He preferred incense to candles and bubble baths to showers. Which brought him to the plain black silk underwear that Jim had bought him. They fit him well, and they were smooth and luxurious. He had every reason to want them, regardless of what his research had turned up about gender norms as pertaining to Terran undergarments. That Jim seemed to like seeing them on him was a bonus.

“You’re gorgeous.” Jim said softly, simply staring.

“You do not find them too... feminine?” Spock asked with a last inkling of uncertainty.

Jim chuckled. “Spock, I don’t think that someone who looks like they can rip me in half -- someone who _I know_ can rip me in half -- could ever look dainty or feminine.”

Spock smirked up at Jim, then with an effortless twist he flipped Jim to the bed beneath him, thrilling at how Jim’s heart sped and his eyes dilated.

“Yeah.” Jim said breathlessly. “Like I said.”

“Jim. Stop talking.” Spock demanded, and leaned in to ensure his instructions were followed by capturing Jim’s mouth in a kiss. His hands meanwhile were busy divesting Jim of his boxers. He was in the mood to have Jim fall apart for him tonight. And he intended to leave on the panties.

 


	31. Tantra

It had been a while since they’d last done anything new, sexually speaking. And Jim was happy with the wide array of things they already enjoyed -- he was. But he was also a fun-seeker, and he just knew Spock must have plenty more ideas in his genius brain. Since Jim didn’t have any specific ideas and just wanted Spock to take the reigns, he dug out his collar from their toy box and left it on the night stand in open view.

“Is there something specific you want?” Spock asked one evening, holding the collar thoughtfully.

“No, surprise me.” Jim said with a smile. “I’m sure there are one or two things you’d still like to try.”

Spock set the collar aside. “Very well.” he acquiesced. He did actually have something in mind that they hadn’t done yet. Something that he had a lot of personal interest in, but that maybe Jim wouldn’t go for. However, the collar, their D/s roles, would be the perfect dynamic in which to try it out. Jim would be pleased taking his instructions, and he wouldn’t have to worry about providing any other layer of excitement in the scene. The roles would be enough, even if his other idea didn’t pan out. “This Saturday evening.” Spock told Jim. He had some research yet to do, and they would have plenty of free time then.

Jim grinned widely. Saturday was less than a week away. He could definitely hold out just a few more days, and he itched with curiosity to know what Spock had planned.

 

~~~

 

Jim had received an email from Spock sometime while he’d still been asleep Saturday morning. Whenever he got the chance, he still slept in like it was going out of style. But Spock was up at the ass crack of dawn even if he had nothing to do. Jim sprawled in the bed with his PADD, thinking about getting dressed and getting breakfast, but not having worked up the energy yet. And there it was, a message from Spock labelled “Required Reading”.

He opened the attached document and the word Tantra stood out boldly at the top of the page, catching Jim’s attention and imagination. He’d heard of tantric sex in a vague way. Images of India, and incense, and hippies came into his mind. He had no actual idea what was involved with the practice, but apparently this was what Spock wanted them to explore tonight. And he’d sent Jim a reading assignment. Jim rolled his eyes and began to skim through the text, hoping the salient points would jump out at him.

What he found was vague and expansive, more of a concept than a sex act, and he was disappointed not to find a single picture. Unfortunately, the main thesis didn’t jump out for him at all, and he hadn’t had breakfast yet. Or maybe it was closer to lunch now. Setting aside the PADD to attend to later, he rolled himself out of bed -- the blankets were completely destroyed, as always, half of them on the floor. He wished he could get a yeoman in to fix it for him but Spock had been so judgey about his yeoman use he’d really cut back on their duties of late.

Shower first, then brunch. Then he’d see to the bed. And if he had any attention span left after that, he promised himself he’d sit down and read Spock’s email in full before doing anything else. Like visiting Bones. Or going to the gym. Or jerking off. Or reading. Right. Reading assignments were important, he reminded himself. Shower, brunch, make bed, and read his assignment.

 

When Jim finally did get to his reading, he was confused and a bit let down by what he read. A bunch of boring breathing exercises, followed by the main thesis: that orgasm wasn’t the objective. Which okay, Jim didn’t _always_ need to get off. He could appreciate making out for its own sake, for example. And a good massage was a good massage even if it went no further. But this tantra stuff talked about still most definitely touching the genitals, having sex outright even, but without necessarily getting off. Which, what was the point? It totally baffled him, and it figured that Spock would go for something like this.

He resolved to try, and to do his best to keep a good attitude doing it. He couldn’t just lie either. He had to really try to get himself on board with this, because Spock was a touch telepath and if Jim tried to just fake enthusiasm, Spock would know instantly. He sighed. Synchronized breathing and blue balls. Well, if that was what Spock wanted, it wouldn’t kill him to try. And any time with Spock was good, he reminded himself. The Vulcan asked for so little. Jim could humour him in this.

 

~~~

 

When they were both naked and Spock was satisfied with the ambiance of the room -- dim lights and candles -- Jim knelt down on the floor at Spock’s feet to receive his collar. They took the moment to settle into their roles for the evening. Jim was the captain and used to being in charge, and just generally he was a force of personality, used to bullying his friends into doing things his way. But with Spock, in this space, Spock would lead. This little ritual helped them both leave their other roles behind and shift into their new places.

Spock fastened the collar and ran his fingers through Jim’s hair. “I take it you did the reading I sent you?”

Jim nodded and pressed into Spock’s hand. “Start to finish.” he confirmed.

Spock smiled at Jim’s easy affection, then pulled him toward the bed so they could settle more comfortably. “How much of it did you actually comprehend?” Spock asked. That was another question altogether.

“I think I get the gist of it.” Jim said with a bit of a shrug. “Lots of breathing, and what seems like the edging we’ve already done.”

“Not exactly.” Spock corrected him. It was an easy mistake to make. “Orgasm control isn’t the object of the exercise.” he explained. “When I edge you and deny you release, the orgasm is still the goal to be attained. Or a sharp focus on something being denied. Tantra... is about the act in itself feeling good. It’s about synchronicity and oneness that calls to mind a meld, or as close as a non-telepathic species can get, I suppose.”

“Spock, don’t get me wrong, I love making out with you. Fooling around. But if you have your hand on my dick or your fingers up my ass, I’m not sure how I can think about anything other than how much I want to come.” Jim said honestly.

“Which is why tantra requires patience and practice.” Spock said with an amused smile. Jim sighed. Of course his Vulcan would want them to practice patience. He gave Spock a fond, if slightly annoyed look.

Spock settled with his back against the headboard with pillows to prop him up comfortably, and pulled Jim onto his lap. It took a little finesse for Jim to get his legs settled comfortably around Spock’s hips. He was supposed to be relaxed and comfortable, in this position for god knew how long. Then Spock simply looked at him, hands braced on his hips, not moving. Jim squirmed uncomfortably. He liked looking at Spock, and at first the moment was nice, intimate. But it very quickly went on too long.

“Eye contact is one of the primary components of the exercise.” Spock reminded him, and Jim nodded. He had gotten that much from the reading, though he hadn’t realized it would be quite so intense. He gazed back at Spock and tried to take deep even breaths, feeling utterly exposed. Strangely, he felt more exposed than he normally did when Spock looked at his naked body. The rest of his naked form, pressed against Spock so closely was all but ignored in the moment. Instead, they simply regarded each other, each thinking about the man before him.

Spock’s hands roamed over Jim’s skin for a while then. Touching. Petting. Lightly scratching his fingernails over the skin, or thumbing one of Jim’s plush lips. Jim felt his face heat from the attention as his skin came alive under Spock’s touch. He wanted to reciprocate, but his touch had always had an aim in the past. He tentatively joined Spock, trying to catalogue what Spock liked and didn’t like, tracking the reactions. Having a task to set his mind to was the only thing that made the intense attention tolerable, as again eye contact meant he couldn’t turn his gaze away, or close his eyes to better focus on just the sensations.

Jim’s hands itched to do more but he wasn’t sure what more there was to do. He felt his cock harden between his legs, pressing lightly against Spock’s belly, and did his best to ignore it, though he wished one of them would touch it. He ached to lean in and kiss Spock but he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to. He didn’t fully understand these tantric rules, and he wasn’t sure what limits his collar put on him either. And Spock, patient Vulcan that he was, seemed maddeningly content to take his time.

Spock’s breaths were even, slow, and deep, and Jim found himself synchronizing his breathing to Spock’s almost unconsciously at first. There was little else to focus his mind, and this close he could feel Spock’s body shift with each inhale and exhale. He could feel the occasional puff of air from Spock’s parted lips.

Unable to resist any longer, Jim leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Spock’s mouth, then pulled back to maintain what eye contact he could, and to ask with a look whether the kiss was okay. Spock pressed forward and responded with a gentle kiss of his own, the barest press of lips and mingling breaths.

Jim quickly pressed for more, losing himself in the gentle slide of lips and tongues. His breathing increased, then he went breathless. It was so easy for him, so natural to reach for more. Spock pushed him back gently, pressing their foreheads together as they resynchronized their breaths. Jim’s eyes had slid closed for a moment as well, and he opened them then to look at Spock once more.

“Gently.” Spock admonished him. “Remember, there is no goal here. No destination.”

“Right.” Jim reminded himself a bit shakily. His cock throbbed for attention and he felt overheated and tremendously aroused.

They began again though, gently, slowly this time, and Jim was determined to breathe. To touch. To move without aim. To continue to watch, always watch. It was a challenge. Different. But not bad. It was pleasant in a way to just let Spock guide them aimlessly nowhere, to let go of his need for a climax of some sort, a conclusion to it all. Everything was a hazy now.

Spock’s hand did eventually come down to grasp Jim’s cock, and he was almost surprised to feel it. His arousal was tremendous but detached from him somehow. It had become a separate entity almost, surrounding him, but that touch to his cock was like a live wire and he moaned into Spock’s soft kiss, wanting to thrust. His hips thrust of their own accord, but Spock simply held him in a loose fist, not moving, not really gripping, until Jim was able to settle back down.

It was just a touch, he reminded himself. Just Spock touching, and that felt nice. He didn’t _need_ it to be more, though he wanted more almost out of habit. When he’d thoroughly relaxed again, Spock began to stroke him, grabbing the lube briefly to ease the glide of his palm. Jim groaned and sighed as he watched Spock through narrowly slit eyes. It was all he could do to maintain eye contact when he thought his bones might  liquify from pleasure. The touch was always too light, to slow, and he thought he’d simply burn up.

The kisses came more slowly as Jim’s focus was split between the eye contact and cyclic breathing. He sunk into his arousal, and floated there, his eyes going glassy in that way they had a few times before during their most intense play, though this was certainly one of their gentlest sessions.

His orgasm when it came was a total surprise to him. He’d been hovering on the cusp for an eternity, and had resigned himself to being fine with that, fine if he never reached further. It simply was what it was. And then he was spilling lazily over Spock’s fist with a gentle groan. Spock didn’t tighten his grip, didn’t speed his strokes, simply continued to slow steady glide until he’d finished.

They paused afterward, totally still and continuing to breathe. Jim was the one to speak first. “So that was tantra?” he asked, still feeling pretty hazy.

“As far as I am aware.” Spock answered. “I am hardly an expert. I take it you found the exercise enjoyable enough?” he asked, reaching for some tissues to clean up the small mess.

“It was good.” Jim agreed. “Different. Was it what you wanted?”

“I enjoyed it as well.” Spock confirmed. “It was a unique experience to see you so peaceful for once, rather than rushing headlong into the next thrill.”

“Why Spock,” Jim grinned, “You make me out to be some sort of adrenaline junkie.”

“As you say.” Spock said simply, then pulled Jim flush against him as he laid down more fully in the bed.

“You seriously want to lay here after lying around that whole time?” Jim quizzed, though there was no real urgency to his words. His limbs still felt like they’d melted.

“Hush.” Spock admonished. “I don’t believe I have uncollared you as of yet.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jim answered with a smile, snuggling into his Vulcan as he was told.

 


	32. Professor Spock

“Uggghhh.” Jim groaned and rubbed his eyes dramatically, then flopped back on the bed. The upcoming diplomatic mission was already a nightmare. The Pirans had a rigid culture full of ritual and ceremony, and Jim had to memorize the cultural brief before he even _attempted_ making contact. In addition, he had to give an official greeting in their native tongue, which was _not_ something that lent itself easily to the human tongue.

Uhura had written up the cultural brief and a pronunciation guide to their greeting, but it was Spock who’d spent the last three hours instructing Jim on all of it in the privacy of their quarters. And while Spock was still Jim’s favourite person in the whole entire world, when he was in Professor mode, he had a stick so far up his ass Jim was afraid he’d have to call Bones for medical aid. It just wasn’t natural.

“Captain, you are failing to pay adequate attention.” Spock snapped from his perch on the desk chair he’d brought into the bedroom. He was still in uniform too, and completely stiff.

“Spock, seriously? First of all, we’re in our _bedroom_. You don’t have to call me Captain. Second of all, we’ve been at this three hours. My brain is going to explode.”

“It was your decision to bring ship’s business into your bedroom, Captain.” Spock admonished. “And we could be finished with these lessons sooner if you would simply apply yourself. I am fully aware of your IQ, and I know that this is hardly beyond your capabilities.”

Jim smiled. “Aww. Did you just compliment how smart I am?”

“I simply voiced a fact.” Spock corrected. “Now. Please make another attempt at reciting the traditional Piran greeting.”

Jim closed his eyes and tried to envision the proper sounds in his head, but he could feel a headache beginning behind his eyes. Even at the Academy, he didn’t drive himself like this. He studied best in fits and starts. He tended to cram last minute, and it wasn’t unknown for him to do some of his studying in the middle of a party or bar room. “My mind is seriously blanking on this right now.” he told Spock. “Let’s go get something to eat instead. Or go to the gym. Or take our clothes off.”

“Captain.” Spock said sharply. Well, tonelessly really, but he had that look about him that told Jim he was annoyed.

“Spock, seriously? Didn’t you used to teach? Is this how you were with your students?”

“I believe I had reasonable expectations for my classroom based upon the required skill level and knowledge base students were expected to attain by the end of my course.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “So yes, then. Listen, I don’t learn well when I’m stressed out. What do you say we play naughty student, naughty professor to unwind?” Jim smiled. That definitely sounded more fun than whatever this was. “You can even ‘discipline’ me.” he suggested and reached for the hem of his shirt.

Spock’s eyes narrowed. He could not believe this. He shouldn’t have allowed Jim to move them to the bedroom for “greater comfort”, really. Why was physical comfort required in learning this material? For that matter, he really should have had Nyota teach Jim, but he doubted that the two of them could stand one another long enough to successfully impart the information, particularly since Jim was having such a hard time absorbing this.

He sighed internally. Jim was already lifting the hem of his shirt. If he couldn’t stop this force of nature, he could at least try to direct it. Jim was getting distracted.

“Ensign Kirk.” he snapped sharply.

Jim immediately froze, his eyes widening with arousal. “That’s what I’m talking about.” he encouraged.

“Cease this inappropriate behaviour at once and focus on the task at hand. Sit up.” he ordered, and was pleased when Jim complied, even if Jim was already half hard, the bulge showing clearly through his uniform pants.

“Yes, Sir.” Jim said. He was somewhat aroused, somewhat curious to see where Spock was going with this, and a little bit concerned that it would just lead to more rote memorization and no sexy times at all.

“You may begin by reciting the list of eleven behaviours Lieutenant Uhura has compiled which cause the highest offense to the Pirans and are likely to cause a severe diplomatic incident.” After all, those were the most pertinent. “If you can recite all eleven in full, you may have a granola bar. For every mistake, you’ll receive one swat of the paddle.”

Jim’s eyes smouldered at the threat, and Spock suspected he might mess up just to manipulate the situation to his liking.

“I shall keep track of the total number and you will receive them _tonight_ , _not now_ , after which point we will retire straight to bed.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.” Jim pouted.

“If you apply yourself to your studies, we could engage in more pleasurable behaviour instead.” Spock reasoned.

“What if I only mess up like three times?” Jim wanted to know. “Do I still get sexy times tonight then or is this like a zero tolerance thing?”

“Ensign Kirk!” Spock snapped. “I will not have you derailing this conversation further. “Recite, or I shall leave you here to your own devices.”

Jim huffed in frustration. He _really_ didn’t want that. He’d tried memorizing this crap on his own but the cultural bits were too tedious and he’d never had a head for languages. He needed Spock. “Okay.” he agreed. “Okay, right. Eleven diplomatic disasters.” He began to recite,  wracking his brain for what Spock had been trying to drill into him over the past hour.

In the end, he scraped by, though Spock did correct two minor details. He really hoped those didn’t count as infractions but was afraid to ask, and he waited hopefully for the verdict.

“ _One_ granola bar.” Spock allowed him. “And you have five minutes to eat it. I suggest you make use of the bathroom or get something to drink in that time period as well, because after the break we’re moving to language and we’re not stopping until you’ve perfected the greeting.”

Jim quickly devoured his snack, half of the granola bar already in his mouth as he made his way to the bathroom. His brain felt scattered in a thousand directions. First and foremost was the fact that Spock’s professor act wasn’t nearly as sexy as it should be... yet... and whether there was a way to successfully steer their interaction in that direction, or if Spock would just up and leave as he’d already threatened to do. Another part of his brain frantically tried to review the greeting they’d gone over and over, while a third fragment of his mind was thoroughly lost in naughty professor porn. Not helpful. But hot.

When Jim emerged from the bathroom, Spock was digging around in their toy box, and that made him perk up with hope.

“I am not condoning your infantile lack of work ethic.” Spock prefaced. “However, it seems as though you work best with an additional challenge to occupy you. Therefore, I propose a game.”

“I like games.” Jim said eagerly, taking his place on the bed again and trying to crane his neck to see what Spock was getting. What Spock finally laid out on the bedside table was something Jim had seen in the box months ago but they’d never touched. Clothes pins. His curiosity was certainly piqued.

“Strip.” Spock instructed in his sharp, professorly voice, and Jim hurried to comply, grinning ear to ear. Perhaps they were actually going to have a fun diversion into sexy times after all. Spock meanwhile continued to rummage in the box, pulling out the lube and Mister Green.

“Hands and knees.” Spock instructed Jim once he was fully naked, and Jim took up his position.

“This is hardly appropriate behaviour for a Starfleet Academy Professor.” Jim admonished teasingly, getting into position.

“The rules of the game are simple. The Piran greeting consists of twenty-three syllables. For each syllable you pronounce correctly, I will push the dildo further into your body in reward. For every wrong pronunciation, I will remove it a fraction. Additionally, for each infraction I will place one clothes pin on your body.”

Spock said nothing about removal of said clothes pins, or where they’d be placed on Jim’s body. He swallowed thickly. There was a pretty sizeable pile of the things, and he couldn’t imagine they’d be that comfortable. He _almost_ wanted to protest. He could barely form the phonemes of that language even after three hours of practice. He couldn’t do it. However, when was he ever going to get Spock to play a game like this again? And the promise of getting fucked in the end was too great.

“Do you understand what is expected of you, Ensign?” Spock prompted.

“Yes, Sir.” Jim answered dutifully.

“Good. Recite.”

And so Jim began his recitation. Within five minutes he was drenched in sweat and trembling. There were clothes pins decorating his sides and his thighs, even his arms. There wasn’t much excess skin on his fit frame to latch them onto him, so he’d learned that meant they mostly went in sensitive areas where the skin was thinnest. Mister Green, meanwhile, was a scant three inches inside of him. His hole clenched around what it could and he ached desperately for more. This was certainly a motivator.

Jim licked his lips and drew in a shaky breath, trying to clear his mind and bend his focus to his recitation yet again.

“Continue.” Professor Spock requested in a flat tone. And it was _Professor_ Spock standing here before him, he knew. It was similar to but distinctly different from Domly Spock. Colder, and all business. Immaculate in his uniform. Demanding. Focused.

Jim began again, trying not to sound as breathless as he felt. He got more of the syllables right this time, and felt the dildo inch in further, and further, straining his voice. He almost slipped up, wanted to stutter or moan the words with the wrong inflection. He kept his voice as steady as he could as his whole body quivered with pleasure as he finally was fucked a bit deeper with the toy.

“Stop.” Spock paused him mid-sentence.

Jim’s mind swam as he halted his recitation again. What had he done wrong? Spock recited the correct version once more, and Jim desperately tried to commit to memory while Spock pulled the dildo out a fraction again, and clipped another clothes pin to his body -- this one dangerously close to his armpit. He winced.

“Continue.” Spock ordered him inflectionlessly.

Jim cleared his mind as best he could and picked up where he’d left off.

Five more minutes dragged by. They’d only been at this ten short minutes, but to Jim it felt like an eternity. It was funny though how proper motivation had improved his recitation markedly. The dildo was 80% inside of him now and it had been at least a full minute without the addition of a clothes pin.

“I see that properly motivated, you can in fact learn.” Spock commented impassively. “If you can recite the entirety of the greeting perfectly this next time, I’ll reward you for your good behaviour.” he promised enigmatically.

Jim wanted to know what the reward would be, but if Spock wasn’t going to tell him outright he wasn’t going to ask. Carefully, he made his way through the recitation one more time -- what he hoped would be a final time. And the dildo inched inward, inward, and bottomed out. He trembled and clenched around it, wanting to rock back on it. He needed more.

“Very good, _ensign_.” Spock praised him, a hint of his sexy voice peeking through in spite of his adherence to this rigid role.

Jim trembled and groaned as he felt the dildo finally, _finally_ begin sliding in and out of him. Thank god this seemed to be the promised reward. As Spock worked the dildo in and out of Jim at an increasing rate, he began removing each of the clothes pins from Jim’s skin as Jim hissed and groaned with the dual sensations of pleasure and pain.

Their play had only been ten short minutes, but time had somehow lost meaning to him, and Jim was worked up enough by then that it didn’t take him long to come. The white heat of orgasm washed through him, endorphins temporarily blotting out the twinge of Spock removing the last few pins.

After, Spock knew there were still more protocols to discuss, more preparations to be done before their mission. But the last half hour had been more productive than the entire previous three, and now Jim needed to be cared for, not quizzed.

Gently, he cleaned the mess and bundled Jim into the covers of the bed, sweeping their toys and their study materials off to the side, and grabbing a whole fistful of snacks and a glass of water.

“Aww, you brought me snacks?” Jim asked a bit woozily.

“You certainly earned them.” Spock said affectionately. He stripped off his boots and uniform shirt to join Jim in the bed, petting him as Jim cuddled against his side.

“Does that mean I don’t have to study more today?” Jim asked, smiling happily as his eyes fell closed with exhaustion and post orgasm languor.

“Tomorrow.” Spock confirmed.

“And I don’t need any spankings tonight?”

“I believe I still owe you two swats.” Spock pointed out, and Jim pouted.

“You probably never graded on a curve, did you?”

“Negative.”

“I, for one, am glad that I never had you for an actual professor.” Jim proclaimed. “And I much prefer your new teaching methods to the old ones.”

“You simply needed the proper motivation.” Spock smiled. Only Jim Kirk could convince him to bend his rigid stances. Technically, he noted, they were still on duty for another forty-five minutes today. But he certainly didn’t intend to inform the captain.

 


	33. Bondage

Spock had seen Jim like this before. A sort of manic energy spurred the man into action, pushing himself harder, faster, running himself ragged. Spock knew now it was born of deep seated insecurities, a desperate need to prove himself. To everyone and anyone it seemed at times.

What had inspired this latest bout of overexertion was a string of “bad” missions. At least that was how Spock knew that Jim characterized them. They “hadn’t gone well”. Starfleet was “not pleased”. Spock’s own interpretation of events was a bit more nuanced than that. Perhaps the missions hadn’t been textbook examples of success, but they hadn’t been unmitigated disasters, and besides there was inherent risk to contacting new peoples, and with travelling through the dangerous vacuum of space. Starfleet Headquarters hadn’t been congratulatory of course. They’d had concerns and they’d voiced them. Perhaps sternly, but the tone of the delivery had little effect on Spock. It had a lot of effect on Jim.

Jim was sensitive to criticism and seemed to absorb nothing of praise. He was chronically hard on himself, and convinced that Starfleet had it out for him. He was acutely aware of just how young he was and how little faith Headquarters had in him so far. Spock wasn’t certain that they had quite so little faith, or else they wouldn’t have trusted him with a ship. He did concede that they perhaps paid him some extra attention, but regardless he felt there was no logic in dwelling on it.

Convincing Jim, however, was another matter entirely. He’d tried talking to Jim rationally about it, both as a concerned first officer and as a concerned mate, but Jim wasn’t great at listening to reason. He’d tried to distract Jim with sex, and Jim had been receptive to a degree, but even their sexual encounters had seemed rushed of late. Then he was working a second shift, meddling in the projects of all the various departments and making the crew nervous. When he wasn’t working, he was often working out in the gym. He hardly needed the extra sessions, and Spock was beginning to worry this was more exercise than was medically condoned.

Spock knew that he had to do something about this. He had to find some way to keep Jim still for just a few hours. To keep him from bouncing to the next task and the next and the next. And he had some idea of how to go about that.

The first thing he did was used the signal they’d developed and left Jim’s collar on the night stand in plain view. It took a day and a half, but Jim did finally ask him about it, when he’d paused long enough to really notice.

“I guess this means you want to do some more serious play?” Jim questioned him as he got dressed that morning for alpha shift.

“Correct. Perhaps tonight.” he suggested.

Jim grimaced. “I don’t know, Spock.” he hedged. “I was going to check on what the science department was up to, and then I’ve got my work out, plus I think Starfleet had some more paperwork they wanted filled out....”

“There is nothing on that list that cannot wait.” Spock pointed out. He knew very well that they were in the middle of more star mapping, days away from any noteworthy planet or astronomical phenomenon. Now was the perfect time for this sort of play.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jim nodded, still squirming at the idea of putting anything off for even a second. “I guess you’re right. Tonight then.” he agreed. He felt kind of bad thinking it, but a part of him thought that the sooner they had their play, the sooner he could launch himself back into his work. He had a lot to prove and he felt like he’d been behind from the start.

With that less than enthusiastic agreement, Jim ran off to the bridge, foregoing breakfast again. But that agreement was all Spock needed to be satisfied. He’d take care of the rest that evening.

 

~~~

 

Jim looked frantic when he showed up in his room that evening two minutes late. He’d gotten caught up with Scotty in engineering and had totally lost track of time, and had had to practically run to his date with Spock. He hadn’t had supper either. He was still in his uniform, though his shift had been over for hours, and he looked a frazzled mess. “Sorry. Sorry.” he apologized, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Spock sat on the bed casually, simply reading a PADD. A number of things had been laid out on the table to the side but he ignored them. He looked up, completely unconcerned. “There is no need to apologize.” he dismissed easily. “Undress. Go take a hot shower. Take as long as you need to relax, and when you’re ready to begin come kneel here and I’ll give you your collar.” Spock instructed in calm tones.

Jim was tempted to rush through a quick, cold shower. He felt like he was behind yet again. But the mention of the collar reminded him: Spock was in charge in this space, for this evening. He’d agreed to it, and now Spock was simply asking him to take a shower. He could do that. He nodded his understanding and began pulling off his uniform, glad for the ability to clean up a bit before starting. Now that he took time to notice, he felt grimy and had a bit of a smell. And he was tense, he admitted to himself. A bit of hot water was usually one of his favourite indulgences. It would go a long way toward helping him relax and get in the right headspace for this.

Jim’s muscles protested a bit too much for a simple shower, but his arms didn’t like being above his head to wash his hair, and the hot steam made him feel a bit sleepy. He hadn’t been sleeping enough lately. He knew it, and he vowed to catch up on sleep properly soon. As soon as there was a good time for it. There was just so much to do.

Jim did his best to clear his mind, and by the time he knelt beside the bed he had been marginally successful. Spock set his PADD aside again, and simply stroked his fingers through Jim’s hair for a few minutes, forcing Jim to wait. There was time enough. Only when Jim had resigned himself, his muscles giving way slightly as he slouched in place -- only then did Spock reach for Jim’s collar and fasten it around his throat.

“Kneel up on the bed.” Spock urged him, helping him kneel comfortably on the mattress for now while he reached for a considerable pile of rope.

Jim eyed it with interest. “You going to use _all_ of that?”

“Possibly.” Spock confirmed. After all, that was why he’d gathered so much of it. “As I’ve tried to explain to you before, you’ve been working to excess. It has impacted both your physical and emotional health negatively, and I intend to see it stopped, if at least for one night. Tonight, you’re to slow down and be still.”

With only that for warning, Spock reached for the first length of rope lying coiled on the bed. He pulled it through his hands slowly, carefully re-checking it for any defect, any bit of detritus that might catch the skin or cause discomfort. As he worked, he let Jim feel the slip of the scratchy material against his own naked skin. Before he tied a single knot or made a single loop or twist in the fibers, he let the texture play across Jim’s skin.

Spock leaned in closely to begin his work, a simple lattice across Jim’s body that would allow for all the other work to weave and join. He pressed his body close in against Jim’s. Ropework was a sensual, full-body experience when done properly. Jim could feel his closeness, Spock’s body surrounding his as surely as the rope did. Arms wrapped around, Spock’s breath ghosted over his shoulders and neck. He could feel the heat of Spock’s body next to his own, and the soft brush of Spock’s lounge clothes.

The binding was tight enough to feel secure but not so much that it would cut off any circulation, and Spock’s work was slow and meticulous as always. Jim flexed against the rope instinctively. At first, it did feel confining. Of late, he was practically jumping out of his skin. But by degrees he gave up on his manic need to do something, and settled into place. Then the bondage became a sort of comfortable hug. The scratch of the fibers was grounding. It would leave marks, he knew from experience, but they’d be subtle and short-lived.

This was far more bondage than they’d used before. Normally, Spock himself served as bondage enough, and Jim got off on the notion that Spock could hold him down with ease. Occasionally, they’d used the rope on his wrists alone, and once they’d used those handcuffs Jim had found in the toy box. But it definitely wasn’t the norm. There was just no reason for it, he supposed.

He could see the appeal it must have for Spock now. It figured that Spock would research some of the most difficult and tedious knotwork he could find. Jim wondered briefly how Spock had practised any of this ahead of time, or whether he’d simply memorized it with the same ease he’d taken in most new information. At any rate, the knots were careful and precise, and Jim almost wished he had a mirror in his quarters so he could see the ropework more clearly. It had to have been beautiful.

Checking his reflection in the bathroom quickly became out of the question, as Jim couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Arms and legs were pinned in place -- in comfortable enough positions but definitely unable to move. He still slumped in a kneel on the bed, arms bound behind his back and thighs bound to calves, while the rest of his body sported an intricate lattice of knots.

To his surprise, Jim lost track of time, and he was also surprised that though the ropework was mostly tedious, he’d become partially erect from the bondage alone. He blinked up at Spock as if from a trance when Spock moved away from him.

“I take it you didn’t eat yet this evening?” Spock asked him, though it wasn’t really a question. He knew it for a fact.

Jim was so out of it that at first the question didn’t make any sense to him. Slowly, he parsed what Spock was asking and shook his head. He hadn’t had supper. But what did that have to do with anything? His brow knit in confusion as Spock moved out of the room for a moment to retrieve a tray he’d prepared in advance.

A whole array of finger foods were on it. Cheese, meat, fruit, bread. Little bits of dessert as well, and all of them easy to feed and easy to consume with minimal mess. Jim’s mind flashed back to the sensual meal of finger foods they’d shared on an alien planet months ago and he smiled. He didn’t think that him eating supper really counted as foreplay, but he was beginning to see what Spock was getting at with all of this. He wanted to care for Jim, and he was going to force that to happen whether Jim liked it or not.

With a small, affectionate smile, Jim opened his mouth obediently to accept the first bite. Spock worked slowly, recalling how Jim often practically inhaled his food at mealtimes. He paused often to offer Jim a sip of water, and Jim humoured him for the first little while.

“You know, I _can_ feed myself.” Jim pointed out unnecessarily partway through the meal.

“And yet you have not demonstrated said ability to my satisfaction of late.” Spock replied. “I am afraid I must insist you take your meals more seriously, or I shall be tempted to hand-feed you for every meal, immobilized as you are now to ensure that you eat to my satisfaction.”

Jim grinned at the thought of it, knowing it was entirely impractical, an empty threat. Still, the message had been received. Spock was worried about him, and he’d have to take his meals more seriously or face Spock’s wrath. Or doting attention as the case may be.

When Jim had finished eating, Spock set the empty plate and glass aside and Jim watched curiously to see what would come next. Surely sexy times were to follow, though the finger foods were more practical than sexy this time around. But Spock didn’t reach for any toys, not yet. Instead, he eased Jim onto his side, pulling his head across Spock’s lap. Then Spock reached for his PADD with one hand, the other stroking through Jim’s hair.

“Now I expect you to rest.” Spock told him in a firm, gentle voice. Jim wanted to protest. This was hardly sexy, and how was he supposed to rest when he was trussed up like this? His legs would cramp, he was sure of it, even though Spock had allowed some slack into the rope to account for this. But Spock forestalled his arguments before he could voice them. “If you can, sleep. If you cannot, simply lie still.”

Jim sighed. But Spock was petting him so gently, and the room was quiet and still. Without any other activity available to him as a distraction, he let himself drift.

He hadn’t meant to actually sleep. At best, he’d have thought he’d manage to doze. But Jim had fallen into an actual restive sleep for some time -- how long, he couldn’t say. What he could say was that he awoke in shifts, and when he came to, he was still on his side on the bed but Spock’s lap was no longer under his head. Instead, Spock was making him feel absolutely incredible, and he voiced his approval in the form of a deep moan.

Without waking him, Spock had managed to work two of his fingers and a lot of lube into Jim’s ass, while his other hand stroked over Jim’s fully erect cock. Now Jim groaned awake and shifted as much as he was able in his bindings, first forward, then backward, seeking release. Of course, the knots held firm, and therefore he had little ability to control the pace or intensity of Spock’s ministrations.

Spock twisted a third finger into Jim’s ass, and now that he was certain Jim was awake he picked up in intensity -- stroking faster, pressing harder, really working to get Jim off. Jim was so startled by the whole event, he hardly had time to process the pleasure coursing through him. He cried out hoarsely as he came hard, his whole body trembling in Spock’s grasp as Spock worked out every last ounce of pleasure.

Afterward, as he caught his breath, his entire body felt boneless. Spock cleaned him efficiently and then began the slow task of unwinding the ropes while he just laid still and drifted. As Spock worked, he helped Jim straighten limbs and rubbed cramped muscles, helped the blood flow freely again. Jim, rather than vibrating with unspent energy, was a content puddle.

Spock set the last of the rope aside as Jim watched him contentedly. “If you’re not in danger of falling asleep again, I have more snacks.” Spock informed him, and Jim smiled.

“You know a way to a man’s heart, Spock.”

“I also have Mister Green on standby.” Spock added with a twinkle in his eyes. He fully intended to get Jim off at least once more before the night was over.

“Like I said.” Jim reiterated. “You certainly know the way to a man’s heart.”

 


	34. Enema

Jim hadn’t known something had gone wrong during their last mission... at first. He’d maybe felt a little _off_ , but nothing noticeable. Then a day went by, then two, and soon a full week had passed and he was becoming increasingly concerned and increasingly pained. Because Jim Kirk hadn’t had a bowel movement in far too long.

It had to have been something he’d eaten at the banquet, he reasoned. Because he simply did _not_ have problems like this. Never before, at least. The increasing cramping and discomfort in his gut was certainly a new problem, and not one he was willing to discuss. Though he did pay extra close attention to find out whether anyone else was suffering symptoms of intestinal distress. Unfortunately, his investigations turned up nothing. It seemed to be only him. Well fuck.

He blamed Bones one hundred percent. His CMO knew that he had a million allergies, and it had been his job to check and re-check all of the food with his tricorder to ensure it was safe for him to ingest. And for once, Jim had paid strict attention to Bones’ warnings. The food had intimidated even him, the human vacuum cleaner. It had just been... weird.

Now he was torn between going to Bones to wring him out over his negligence, or never speaking of this to anyone. Ever.

For the last day and a half he’d tried to solve his own problem with extra treadmill time in the gym and a year’s worth of fiber in his food choices. It wasn’t helping. And what had at first been slightly concerning had morphed into physically painful.

“Captain.” Spock said as Jim shifted in his chair yet again. “Are you well?”

“Hm? Fine, Spock.” Jim answered, tensing. He wouldn’t let on that something was wrong with him. Definitely not on the bridge. But Spock was too savvy for him. He was already sure something was wrong.

Spock gave him a flat look and Jim looked down at a PADD instead, pretending to be fully occupied instead of noticing Spock’s death glare.

Spock had half a mind to haul Jim to sickbay himself right that minute. Or to confront him verbally on the bridge. But he knew Jim was stubborn and that this was a personal matter, whatever it was. Most importantly, there was only an hour left of their shift and then it was lunch time. He would corner the captain then.

 

~~~

 

Sure enough, at the appointed time, Spock fell into step beside Jim on his way to the cafeteria, as usual.

“Jim.” Spock tried again, using Jim’s first name instead of title this time. It definitely caught Jim’s attention and he quirked a curious brow.

“Yes?”

“If you will not divulge your physical ailment, I will neck pinch you and deliver you to sickbay by force.”

Jim winced. “I assure you, there isn’t a single thing wrong with me.” he denied, though he convulsed slightly when his stomach chose that moment to give a cramp.

“Jim!” Spock said in tones of exasperation and alarm. He reached automatically to Jim’s arm to brace him, then herded him into a nearby conference room.

“You will tell me what is wrong.” he demanded in no uncertain terms.

Jim’s face heated up to an alarming shade of red as he looked everywhere but at Spock’s face. “Look. Spock. I just er, haven’t fully finished digesting that banquet from our last mission. But I can feel it making a hell of an attempt.” he added with false optimism.

Spock’s eyebrows shot up to his bangs. “That was a week ago.”

“Kind of noticed that.”

“You will go to sickbay.” Spock demanded with an extra scowl.

“Spock --”

“This is not up for negotiation.”

 

~~~

 

Bones hummed and hawed at the tricorder and all his little dials, and Jim wanted to punch him in the face. Him and Spock both.

“So can we speed this up?” Jim asked in irritation. “Don’t you have a laxative or something you can give me?”

“Any laxative that is fiber-based probably won’t do a thing for you, if all those fibrous foods you ate yesterday and today didn’t do the trick. And anything more serious I’d be hesitant to give you with your allergies.”

“Yeah, about that.” Jim crossed his arms across his chest. “Weren’t you supposed to prevent this sort of thing from happening?”

“Damn it, Jim. I’m a surgeon, not a dietician. I checked your foods for allergens, and you’re not having an allergic reaction.”

“If this isn’t a reaction then why do I feel like I’m dying?” Jim challenged.

“I didn’t say it’s not a reaction. Your body certainly didn’t like _something_ you ate at that banquet, though it’s anyone’s guess what. At any rate, it doesn’t seem to be doing any more harm than backing you up, and you’re not having any sort of histamine response.”

“Blah blah blah, you won’t give me a pill for it. What about a hypo?”

Bones scowled. “Now I know something’s wrong if you’re asking for a hypo. And no, you can’t have one. That’s not how hypos work. You can’t take one for constipation.”

Jim pouted. “But you have hypos for everything.”

“What I’d like to know his how you let it get this bad without mentioning something was wrong.”

“Well I didn’t notice until yesterday.”

Bones rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “God help me. Doesn’t use the can for a week and doesn’t notice.” he muttered. “If that’s your usual habit I’ll want to have a look over your diet.” He ticked some boxes on his PADD.

Jim made a face. “I’m pretty sure normal people don’t keep track of when they last pooped.”

“Actually --” Spock started, hands tucked behind his back in his most irritating lecture mode.

“Don’t you even start.” Jim warned him, waggling a stern finger in his general direction. Spock quirked a superior brow but held his peace.

“The way I see it, you’ve got two options.” Bones went on. “I’d feel comfortable letting his run its course another day, two at the max. But after that, there’s a good old old fashioned sure-fire way to ensure a movement.” He rummaged in a few drawers, and Jim was appalled at what Bones pulled out. An enema kit.

“No. No way. Absolutely not.”

“It’s up to you, Jim, if you want to wait with those cramps another day or so. But if you don’t have a movement on your own by then this is going to happen. Or, you can relieve yourself today and be done with it.”

“There is no way I am allowing _you_ to put a single thing up my ass.” Jim said. “I don’t care if my bowel ruptures.”

“You’re such an infant. This is a perfectly safe medical procedure. Hell, children have undergone enemas for centuries and come out no worse for the wear. It’s a bit of warm water, Jim. Now I know for a fact you’ve had a hell of a lot more than that up there.”

“That’s different. Spock is nice. You’re slightly terrifying.”

“Then have the hobgoblin do it for all I care.” Bones threw up his hands in frustration.

“Very well, Doctor.” Spock accepted the responsibility easily. After all, he was passingly familiar with the enema process from his extensive kink research.

“Now just hold on a minute.” Jim hurriedly tried to interject. They were ganging up against him. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’ll relieve you both of duty for the rest of the day.” Bones was telling Spock, ignoring him completely. “And tomorrow, too, if Jim decides to be a baby about it. I take it you’re familiar with how this thing works?”

“Indeed, Doctor.” Spock confirmed.

McCoy had figured as much based on how much Spock had researched fisting. The Vulcan was thorough. He’d give him that.

“Hello?” Jim waved his arms. “Pretty sure I didn’t agree to have a tube shoved up my ass.”

“Yes, Jim.” Spock said dismissively, and proceeded to lead him back to their quarters while Jim wondered how this had happened to him.

 

~~~

 

Spock laid down plenty of towels on the bed, just in case, and had Jim undress and get himself comfortable while he went into the bathroom to fill the enema bag. He set aside the medical lubricant and instead retrieved their personal favourite, as well as a small plug that might make the experience a little more enjoyable.

When Spock returned to the bedroom with the equipment, Jim was sitting on the very edge of the bed, naked and with wide, panicked eyes. Jim swallowed when he saw the enema bag in Spock’s hands, a feeling of dread washing over him. It didn’t matter how many things he’d had up his ass before. It didn’t matter that this was Spock. It didn’t matter that the pain cramping his gut would go away in just a few minutes if he went through this simple procedure. All that mattered to Jim was that this would suck. He’d already decided.

Spock hung the bag on the grating beside the bed and pulled out their favourite lube. “Jim. Please lie on your side with your back to me, if you would.” Spock instructed in cool, calm tones. Jim hated it. But he complied.

“I hate this, you know.” he complained resentfully as he allowed Spock to draw up one knee for easier access. He talked over his shoulder but didn’t bother to watch what Spock was doing.

Spock popped open the cap to their lube and slicked up a finger. Then he began probing Jim’s backside with practised ease. “It need not be a wholly unpleasant experience.” Spock told him. “Indeed, many people seek out enemas solely for the purpose of pleasure.”

“I very clearly marked no scat on that check-list of yours.” Jim griped. “I don’t care what people do for kicks but I am not interested in certain bodily functions.”

Jim gave a soft grunt as Spock stroked his prostate, gently working more lube than necessary into his ass. Spock just hummed vaguely in response to Jim’s ranting, and worked on getting him to relax through tried and true methods. Jim never fully relaxed, which Spock allowed was fair because of his intestinal distress. But he did relax more than he had been, and gave soft sounds of pleasure as Spock fingered his hole.

When Jim was calm and floating along, Spock eased his finger out and replaced it with the enema nozzle. It really went in quite easily. It was small and not very deep, and Jim was more than sufficiently prepared for the intrusion. Before Jim could fully process the new sensation and launch fresh complaints, Spock eased open the valve so that the warm water could begin its flow.

“Spock!” Jim tensed, his breathing speeding up as his heart raced. He could feel it. He could feel it inside of him, and it was weird. It was so, so weird. In one way, it was distinctly noticeable and unnatural, and in another it was almost too subtle for what it was. He couldn’t exactly feel the flow of water, though he could detect it somewhat. It was the slight temperature difference that was most prominent, and a barely detectable expansion that crept in over time. At first though, just feeling anything at all and knowing it was happening caused him to panic a bit.

Spock stroked his fingers over Jim’s ribs, his arm, through his hair. “Relax, _t’hy’la_.” Spock soothed. “I’ve got you.”

Jim drew a shuddering breath and focused on Spock’s steady presence, and slowly his nervous energy began to dissipate. The reality of the situation wasn’t nearly as bad as his anticipation of it, he realized. It was uncomfortable and weird, but it was hardly the worst ordeal he’d been through. A cramp seized him for a moment and he grunted, scrunching shut his eyes. But Spock was attentive and gently rubbed his stomach, and soon the feeling passed.

It wasn’t a tremendous amount of water, but to Jim it felt enormous. Soon, he started to babble. “Spock, _I can’t, I can’t_.... Turn it off.” he asked nervously. A pressure was steadily starting to build. In his gut, in his ass, in a place there wasn’t usually pressure. Or at least, not this sort. It was nothing like sex, and nothing like a bowel movement. It was only like itself.

“You are fine, Jim.” Spock told him gently. “This is only a small amount of water. The bag is approximately three quarters empty.”

Jim whimpered. That seemed like a lot. To distract him, Spock reached a hand around to gently stroke his cock, and boy did that send confusing signals. The first thing he noticed was that he was already partially erect. When had that happened? And how? Jim’s mind was a total blank on that front. The second thing he noticed was that now that Spock had shifted his mind toward sex, the enema couldn’t feel anything _other_ than sexual. There was something in his ass and a steady pressure on his prostate that he’d just realized now. He wanted to fuck himself back onto something more substantial, but the enema nozzle would hardly do.

“Fuck that’s weird.” Jim mumbled as he gripped the sheets, shuddering under Spock’s ministrations.

“I think you understand now why some individuals pursue this activity?” Spock prompted him.

“Ngh.” was Jim’s incoherent response as he basked in the slow handjob and growing sense of fullness. He whined as Spock pulled his hand away, and only dimly realized that the flow of water had ceased and Spock was carefully extracting the nozzle. Before he could even worry about humiliating himself with leakage, a blunt, familiar force was pressing in.

Jim smirked. “Is that a medically sanctioned device, Mister Spock?” he asked. And oh, he liked that butt plug. It was small, but it nudged just perfectly against his prostate. Even now he could feel its insistent pressure, only enhanced by the liquid stretching him inside.

“If you feel your medical rights are in violation, you may feel free to contact the good doctor and ask his advice.” Spock suggested with a smirk.

“N-no.” Jim waved off the idea of it. “Th-this is fine.” He was having trouble catching his breath, though he was lying still, and he felt a bead of sweat forming on his brow. “H-how long exactly do I have to hold this?” he asked. He had half a mind to stroke himself off, when Spock’s hand suddenly returned. He groaned deeply and melted into the touch, feeling like something had to give soon or he would burst. From which end, he wasn’t certain, and he didn’t want to think about the potential consequences. He was all kinds of mixed up, his body sending conflicting signals that he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“Only ten minutes.” Spock assured him, then leaned down so that his mouth was close to Jim’s ear. “Plenty of time.” he promised.

Jim shuddered at the promise, and quickly fell apart under Spock’s touch. He wanted to come, but he wanted to hold back, thighs trembling with tension. He was afraid if he let go, or alternately if he tensed too hard, there would be a mess on the bed and no amount of towels Spock had laid down would save them.

He was vaguely aware he was babbling. “ _Spock, I can’t.”_

Spock reassured. “You can.”

But he couldn’t. Because. _Because_. And then he was. Jim spilled over Spock’s fist as his orgasm took him, groaning deeply as his insides quivered against the foreign pressure. Spock’s thumb pressed against the plug for dual purpose -- to be certain there was no mess, and to drive it home into Jim’s prostate as he fell over that edge.

Jim was one hundred percent certain there was going to be a mess, but there wasn’t. And then, as soon as his orgasm faded away he _really knew_ there was going to be a mess. Luckily Spock seemed to make sense of his flailing and desperate babbling, as Spock calmly and gently helped move him to the bathroom just a few feet away.

The aftermath of the enema wasn’t nearly as fun or sexy as the enema itself had been. There was cramping, and mess, and Jim recalled exactly why he’d done this in the first place. It was truly awful, even if it did solve his problem.

Afterward though, when everything was clean and he was feeling mostly recovered, Jim laid in bed milking his medical leave for all it was worth. He thought about what such play might be like when there was no medical need at all. Just a fullness, and Spock working his magic. Sure, maybe there would be _some_ mess, _some_ cramping, but it now seemed like such a trivial matter. He could admit now to some curiosity as to what it might be like, with no medical condition interfering at all. Perhaps an exploration for the future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the consent in this chapter: Some people might notice that Jim does not give enthusiastic consent to the enema. While enthusiastic consent is one form of consent giving that is most familiar to us (yes means yes), there are other types of consent as well. I’ve never been enthusiastic about a dental appointment, yet I do consent to it, and similarly Jim consents reluctantly to have this necessary medical procedure.
> 
> Another form of consent is implied consent. Jim does this with his body language and cooperation, though he does grumble verbally. He and Spock have built enough trust between them by this point that Spock can judge the seriousness of Jim’s complaints, and can trust that Jim would put his foot down if something were really wrong.
> 
> There is also an element of consensual non-consent (CNC), which is the idea that Jim might give a sort of blanket consent to Spock, based on his trust of Spock’s larger judgement, rather than give consent for an individual action which he might not like. I think there might be a flavour of this here, though CNC often is paired with total power exchange (TPE), which they do not practice in this relationship.
> 
> Finally, there is the fact that Spock is a touch telepath, and I take authorial license to say he would definitely know if Jim needed him to stop at any point for any reason, and things really were okay.


	35. Temperature Play

Jim laid back on the bed, a blindfold over his eyes but otherwise unbound. He clenched his fingers in the sheets for lack of anything else to do, feeling as if he’d vibrate out of his skin in anticipation. What was Spock _doing_? He’d had to go get _something_ from his room next door, and hadn’t told Jim what it was. It was a surprise.

Jim pulled his feet up on the bed, knees bent, and tried to clutch at the sheets with his toes. He wasn’t going to last much longer waiting if Spock didn’t hurry it up. He itched to pull the blindfold off and peek, but then that would ruin the surprise and he _loved_ surprises.

Spock came back into the bedroom and shuffled around, setting this and that on the table. The bed dipped as he made himself comfortable, and Jim was just opening his mouth to ask what was taking so long when Spock pressed an ice cube to his left nipple. Jim hissed in surprise instead, instinctively jerking away from the cold as Spock carefully held the ice in place with a smirk.

“Jesus, Spock!” Jim shivered and tried to lie still. “Was that the surprise?” he asked slightly breathlessly.

“One of them, perhaps.” Spock answered enigmatically. He rearranged himself more comfortably to straddle Jim’s hips, and Jim was pleased to feel bare skin. He couldn’t count on it with Spock, especially if they were doing something out of the ordinary. And while Spock hadn’t asked for the collar to come out, he was still clearly in the driver’s seat of this escapade.

Spock trailed the ice across Jim’s chest and onto the other nipple, swirling it there over the areola. When he’d visited both nipples several times and the ice was steadily melting across Jim’s rapidly heating skin, he moved down the taut abs to let the rest of the ice sit in Jim’s bellybutton. Jim squirmed under him, causing Spock to smile a bit.

As Spock shifted further down the bed, Jim laughed a bit and spoke up. “You’re seriously going to leave that there?”

“I believe so.” Spock answered, then pulled another bit of ice out of nowhere to trail up Jim’s thigh, causing him to jerk at the sudden shock once more. He was fully erect from the teasing but wasn’t certain he could remain so if Spock continued on his trajectory with that ice. And yep -- there it was. Jim grunted and gripped the sheets tightly, trying not to squirm away as Spock trailed the ice delicately over his balls first, then the length of his cock.

“You are a sadist, Mister Spock.” Jim grit out. “You don’t fool me one bit!”

“As you say, Captain.” Spock sassed back, trailing the ice south now.

Jim’s eyes widened behind the blindfold as he realized where Spock was headed. “Nonononono!” he squirmed a bit but in the end held his place and took a deep breath as Spock trailed the ice between his cheeks and over his hole. Just when Jim was afraid he couldn’t take another second of it, Spock moved back up to his junk with it, and he couldn’t say whether or not that was an improvement.

When both ice cubes had melted away, Spock pulled out his next toy. Mister Green, Jim’s favourite dildo, had been sitting on the bedside table on a tray of ice packs for the past several minutes. Now Spock tested its temperature against his wrist, making sure it wouldn’t actually harm Jim when inserted. It wasn’t dangerous, but it would certainly be a shock. Just as Spock had planned it.

For now, he set the toy beside him and pulled out their usual lube, and set about the familiar process of preparing Jim’s hole for penetration. Jim was a bit tense from the ice, but Spock could feel the tension draining out of him all across his body as Spock gently worked one slippery finger inside, the friction warming him up as he moved. Spock took his time. He wanted Jim to be very loose and wet for this, and totally relaxed, because that relaxation wouldn’t last long once he felt the cold shock.

Jim relaxed into the familiar stretch. The ice had been a bit creative, but the fingering caused him to let his guard down. Now they were back on familiar territory, and he wondered idly what the catch was, if there even was one. Would Spock back off right as he got close to orgasm again? Or keep going? Either way, he was content to enjoy a thorough fingering now, and he lost himself in the sensations of it.

Soon enough, Spock had determined Jim was ready. He pulled his fingers away and slicked the cold toy. He had to do this quickly or Jim would clench up unpleasantly before he could really insert it. Jim flinched at the cold the second Spock lined up, but Spock pressed in as quickly as he could before Jim could fully react.

“Fuh--shshhhhhh!” Jim bit back a dozen different curse words as his stomach clenched as hard as his anus, hands gripping the bed with white knuckles for a minute as he reeled from the cold intrusion. He took a few deep breaths, relaxing slowly as he calmed, though not fully.

“Do you like it?” Spock asked in an infuriatingly calm voice.

Jim trembled and huffed an incredulous laugh. “I have no idea how to even begin answering that.”

Spock gently began to work the dildo in and out of Jim, cautious of Jim’s comfort and clenching. He paused whenever Jim needed a second, then began again the moment Jim relaxed. All the while Jim groaned softly at the unique feel of it. His insides were turning to ice as well, he was certain. And he wasn’t sure where Spock had gotten a frozen dildo or how big the toy actually was. He was totally unable to recognize it as his usual toy as the shock of cold made it feel foreign and enormous.

His erection had flagged when he’d first felt the frigid intrusion, but as Spock worked the toy steadily in and out of him, Jim found himself newly aroused. This was certainly different, and he should have come to expect such creativity from Spock. Really, Spock was quite a clever guy, and that was about all of the higher brain function Jim had to devote to the subject at present.

Spock traded the dildo to his free hand, and gripped Jim’s cock with his now cold palm, causing Jim to hiss and writhe anew. Really, it was quite enjoyable to elicit such reactions from the man, and Spock pondered whether such a sentiment could rightly be classified as sadism or not, as per Jim’s earlier accusation. Only when Jim’s breath was coming fast and ragged did he ease off, leaving the dildo in place for the moment as he moved back to the bedside table.

Jim’s mind spun as all the delicious sensation stopped at once. “Spock? Seriously?” he questioned. “Do you have any idea how close I was getting?” he admonished.

“I believe so.” Spock answered, a hint of amusement clear in his voice. “Which is why I chose not to continue.”

Jim bit back a frustrated reply and tried to regain his equilibrium. The only thing staying his tongue (or his hands, for that matter) was the fact that he could hear Spock fussing with something else. Another toy? His mind spun with possibilities and he was more than excited to find out.

Spock pulled the second dildo off the heating pad where he’d had it warming and tested the temperature against his forearm, on an area that hadn’t been chilled by his handling of cold toys. It was quite warm, but again certainly nothing harmful. He slicked it well with lube, and then made ready for the swap. The handle of Mister Green still protruded obscenely from Jim’s stretched hole. With one hand, he gripped it firmly, while in the other he held its hot replacement. Then all at once he pulled Mister Green free as Jim quivered achingly around the sudden emptiness, which was then filled just as abruptly with sudden heat.

Jim yelled wordlessly as his body arched away. With the contrast in temperatures, the new toy felt like molten heat, like lava or a hot poker being jammed into his bowels. And yet, not in an unarousing way, as for a second pleasure swept through him and he thought for certain he was about to come untouched.

Spock didn’t waste time, wanting to capitalize on the thermal difference and the shock to Jim’s system. He worked the toy in Jim’s ass like a man with a purpose, and closed his warmed fist around Jim’s cock to jack him rapidly. Jim twisted in his grasp as he let out a low groan, and it took no time at all for him to release, coming loudly and wetly as he clenched around the molten core within him.

It was only as he laid there panting in recovery, while Spock carefully cleaned his mess, that his body started to properly receive the thermal signals correctly again. The toy within him wasn’t a thousand degrees. Instead, it was more like hot bath water. By the time Spock removed it, his own body felt more or less the same temperature it always did.

Spock pulled away Jim’s blindfold last, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another. Jim smiled, feeling sated and boneless on the bed, and Spock smiled in his more muted, Vulcan way. If Jim was pleased, he was pleased.

“I’d ask you to join me in a hot shower,” Jim said, “But I’d be afraid you’d want to turn the temperature all the way down first.”

“Negative.” Spock assured him, helping him to sit up in the bed, then moving them both toward the bathroom. “I believe a hot shower is in order for both of us, and then a warm bed.”

“An excellent idea.” Jim agreed. “Although,” he mused, “I wouldn’t be adverse to some ice cream as well.”

“I shall see what I can do.” Spock assured him.

 


	36. Bubble Bath

“Is there something I can do for you, Captain?” Spock asked, his brow creased in confusion. It was the middle of the night, and they were on an away mission, safely ensconced in the Ruoni castle. In separate rooms, as per usual. And as far as Spock knew, there was no reason for Jim to visit him in the night. Certainly they weren’t going to risk some sort of diplomatic incident by spending the night together. They had no idea what the Ruoni cultural views might be on such a thing, and they’d yet to log their relationship with Starfleet officially. Spock stared at Jim who was still fully dressed in his uniform in comparison to Spock’s own sleep attire.

“Official ship’s business, Mister Spock.” Jim said, back straight and jaw set. He strode in and shut the door behind him, then dropped his facade as a grin split his face.

“Captain?” Spock prompted, even more confused than ever. If something had happened concerning the _Enterprise_ , surely Jim could have used his communicator to relay the message.

“Oh my god, Spock. Did you see the bathrooms in this place?” he asked excitedly.

“I do not follow.” He had seen the bathroom as he’d readied himself for bed. What did that have to do with anything? Spock followed Jim into said bathroom as he led the way, already stripping off his uniform. Spock felt his concern and confusion growing by the second. “Need I remind you, Captain, that it would be inappropriate for us to be seen as spending the night together?” He watched Jim continue to disrobe.

“Which is why in about an hour, once we’ve finished our ship’s business, I’ll go right back to my room in my full uniform.” Jim told him. “But for now....” he grinned, and sauntered naked the few steps over to Spock. He began to pull off Spock’s soft tunic. “We are going to take complete advantage of this tub.”

Spock complied with Jim’s urging and helped to undress himself, while eyeing the tub skeptically. How, exactly, were they going to take advantage of it? It was certainly larger than any he was accustomed to, but he hadn’t paid it much mind. He’d planned to use the shower in the morning when he got up and dressed for the day, but otherwise had mostly ignored the whole of it.

Jim knelt by the tub and fiddled with the taps until he got the water the perfect temperature -- as hot as he could make it without actually hurting himself. It was perfect. Not only that, but the tub was absolutely enormous. He and Spock were both fully grown men, and so it wasn’t easy to fit them both into a regular bathtub. But this monstrosity? This was ideal. As soon as Jim had seen it he’d known he’d have to find a way to get into one of these bad boys with Spock. And while he didn’t know whether Spock had ever really indulged in a bath before, he knew his Vulcan would _love_ this.

Once the water was filling the tub steadily, a few more button pushes activated jets on the sides. Awesome.

Next, there was the matter of the soap. A dozen different vials were arrayed on the shelf by the sink, and Jim had come prepared. His tricorder had been programmed by Uhura to read the native language, and with a few scans he’d identified a bubble bath, a shampoo, a body wash, and some sort of lotion. The rest of the skincare regimen he shoved aside, and laid out his arsenal on the tub-side ledge, with wash cloths within reach and towels piled at the ready.

Jim stepped into the hot water and hissed at the heat of it, lowering himself gently like a hesitant cartoon character, much to Spock’s bemusement. “Come on, get in.” Jim gestured to Spock, who allowed himself to be pulled into the tub as well. After the desert heat of Vulcan, he had much less difficulty in entering the hot water, though he did have to admit it was a pleasant change from the constant chill that was the ship’s usual temperature.

Spock relaxed at once with a quiet sigh, and Jim’s heart swelled a bit as he saw that constant tension and stiff posture ease from Spock’s frame. Vulcans were often perceived by humans to be a stiff people, and Jim thought that perhaps to some degree the perception was correct from what he’d seen. But definitely a part of it at least when it came to Spock was the simple fact that he was cold. He’d never admit it, but Jim had figured him out pretty quickly, once he’d realized how hot the man had kept his own quarters. Now Jim always had his own rooms a bit on the warmer side so that Spock would feel just a bit more relaxed and at ease. It was always a pleasure to have the privilege of seeing such a taut frame become soft.

Jim watched Spock melt into the water, sliding down until it was close to his chin, while he poured in some of the bubble bath to suds while the tub finished filling. A soapy floral scent filled the room, and Jim only wished they were in a hotel on a pleasure planet so that they’d have candles and other things to add to the ambiance. As it was, they had this now, and it was still perfect.

Jim shut off the taps and sunk down in the water like Spock, relaxing against the massaging jets, and for a time they simply soaked in silence, legs tangled beneath the froth. Jim blew a handful of the bubbles toward Spock, who blinked up sleepily, his eyes having fallen shut in his relaxation.

“Told you it would be worth it.” Jim said with a small smile, and nudged Spock with his toes.

“Indeed.” Spock allowed. He wanted to stay in this warm nest for the rest of the evening. Only now did he notice the chill that had settled in his bones, as it finally thawed.

Jim bobbed his way over to sit next to Spock and grabbed the vial of shampoo off the ledge. Reading Jim’s intent, Spock allowed himself to lean back into Jim’s chest as Jim worked water and soap carefully into Spock’s hair, taking time to massage his scalp. Spock was hardly in need of a wash after a day spent mostly indoors, but the feeling was nice. The oil softened Spock’s hair, and the scent was lightly spiced, reminding Jim vaguely of Spock’s incense.

Jim combed his fingers through the silky strands, careful not to get any soap or water in Spock’s eyes, and gently cupped Spock’s head and neck as he pooled palms of water over the soapy hair to rinse it clean. At this rate, there wouldn’t be time for Jim to have his own turn, but he couldn’t complain. The chance to pamper Spock was its own reward, and surely the soapy water was cleansing enough in its own right.

When Jim couldn’t justify working his fingers through Spock’s hair a moment longer, he reached out for the body wash, foregoing the was cloth. Instead, he poured it into his palm and rubbed together his hands. Then he set to work washing Spock’s body with the same thorough attention to detail he’d given his hair. Most of Spock was beneath the water, and he doubted that the soap had remained on his palms very effectively, but it didn’t matter. His palms glided over Spock’s skin nonetheless, and what had begun as a wash soon did double duty as a gentle massage. Any remaining tension within Spock soon drained away.

Spock let himself half float in the water as it cooled, and sighed. It was becoming less comfortable, but he didn’t want to move from Jim’s arms or the heat, though the heat was now abandoning them both. Jim leaned over to kiss him on the tip of the nose. “Hey sleepy. I think it’s time to get out.”

Spock blinked up at Jim. “I haven’t seen to you yet.”

“That’s okay.” Jim assured him, pulling the plug on the drain and standing up. He dried himself hastily and was ready with a fluffy towel for Spock when the Vulcan languidly joined him. He wouldn’t hear of Spock drying himself, and instead did the work for him, ensuring he was warm and perfectly dry, no lingering dampness to cause a chill. Once Spock was dry enough to suit him, Jim herded Spock back into the bedroom and onto the bed.

“Jim --” Spock began to complain, his eyes darting toward the door.

“Hush. I’ll only be here a few more minutes.” he said, and revealed the final vial he’d brought with him.

Spock settled down after that and allowed Jim to touch him all over once again, going over Spock’s perfect skin with the lotion. It was a decadent experience, and Spock allowed himself to simply luxuriate in the feel of it. Every inch of him was tended to, his skin made soft and supple by the moisturizing cream. It felt wonderful, and as he laid on his bed he already had a sense of how silky the sheets in the bed would be. All the more so against his smooth skin, now sensitized from Jim’s thorough rubbing.

When Jim finished, Spock hardly wanted to move, so he allowed Jim to simply draw the covers over him, his night clothes lying forgotten on the floor. Spock had no qualms about sleeping naked that night. It would be a rare treat to feel the silk against his bare skin.

He watched sleepily as Jim donned his captain’s uniform once again, readying himself to go back to his own chambers for the night.

“Well Commander,” Jim said as he hovered by the door. “It’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you first thing in the morning for breakfast.”

“Good night, Captain.” Spock said warmly from where he was already starting to drift.

“Good night, Spock.” Jim said with a warm smile, and saw himself out.

 


	37. Electrical Play

Two weeks until the nearest starbase, and Jim knew what that meant. It meant that Spock was going to order another box of goodies, if he kept to his habits. And Spock was definitely a creature of habit. This time, however, Jim wasn’t going to be caught unaware. He wanted to know who Spock was ordering from, and what he was getting, and what the options were. He wanted to be a part of the decision making process this time around. Because there were definitely a lot of interesting toys out there, and he wanted to try them all.

Spock quirked a brow as Jim went through the online catalogue, checking item after item to add to his wish list. “Jim, you do not need... twenty three (?!) different paddles. You already have one that you like very well.”

“That one’s plastic.” Jim said distractedly, then scrolled through his list. “Or rather, acrylic, apparently. I picked out one in wood, a leather one, one that’s _metal, actually_....” he sounded a bit skeptical of that material. “And there are different styles. Look, see? This one’s really big, this one’s small, this one’s thick, this one has holes, this one has some sort of bumps on it....”

Spock took the PADD out of Jim’s hands and flicked through the paddles section of the wish list, all but rolling his eyes. “You may choose one.”

Jim pouted and yanked the PADD back to himself, continuing to add things to his list. Like twelve kinds of lube. Chocolate body paint, since Spock had never indulged him with the chocolate syrup. Three interesting looking dildos, though dildos were a hard sell to him as he was rather attached to Mister Green these days.

“What is _that_?” Jim asked, gaping. A look of horror and deep concern crossed his face.

Spock flicked his eyes to the PADD. “A violet wand.” he said offhandedly.

“Yeah, can kind of read the label, Spock.” Jim rolled his eyes. “But what the hell does it do? It plugs in? Why does it look like it’s out of a mad scientist’s lab? _Why does it have lightning?_ ”

“It’s for electrical play.” Spock answered, turning his attention fully back to his own PADD where he was reading astronomical reports.

“So you know about this stuff?” Jim still stared at it worriedly. He’d opened it in a new tab, zooming in on the device and all the little attachments.

“Indeed.”

“Were you going to... you know, use something like this?” he swallowed.

“I had no reason to assume you’d be interested in such a device.”

“I’m not!” Jim was quick to assert. “Why would people even want this anyway? Just go stick your finger in a socket or wait for the bridge computers to short out.” he shrugged uncomfortably.

“I am certain that a violet wand is much safer than either of those activities.” Spock corrected. “And as for the reason for using one, undoubtedly the practitioners of such play enjoy the sensations.”

“Painful sensations.”

“Perhaps some of them.”

“You mean to tell me this torture stick with lightning bolts isn’t painful.”

“Not necessarily.” Spock leaned over to view the page of attachments. “My understanding is that these larger bulbs create more of a tickling or prickling sensation, while this,” he turned to a metal device, a wheel with sharp pins sticking out of it, “is meant to create a more intense sensation.”

“Holy mother of god. What the hell is _that_?” Jim gaped at it.

“A Wartenberg pinwheel. A medical device.”

“If I ever see Bones with one of these in his hand he’s fired.” Jim stared at it in awe. “So that’s the painful version. A wheel of pins with electricity.” he shook his head incredulously.

“So I understand.”

“You know I’m not a masochist, right?” Jim affirmed. Just to be sure.

Spock was dubious about that assertion, but didn’t think it was relevant regardless. “As you say, Jim.”

“Good.” Jim nodded to himself. That was that. Spock didn’t want an electrical torture device. Jim didn’t want one. No one here wanted one, so it was time to add his body weight in rope to his wish list. What Spock had was fine, but there was also jute, and hemp, and Andorian silk to consider.

 

~~~

 

Spock looked over Jim’s wish list after another four days. It had been pared down to something much more reasonable, and he was admittedly impressed with Jim’s self control. What had been twenty three paddles had been reduced to two: one wooden and one leather, which were different enough sensations from what Jim already had tried that Spock felt it a reasonable purchase.

Spock had vetoed the entirety of Jim’s rope suggestions, asserting that the rope they had would do well enough. He sanctioned a sample pack of lubes but saw no reason to invest substantial money into fixing a problem they did not have.

The one item on the list that really caught Spock’s eye, however, was the violet wand. He approached Jim about it.

“It was my understanding that you had no interest in electrical play.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why have you added the violet wand, along with three of its attachments, to your wish list?”

“That, Mister Spock, is a matter of principle.” Jim informed him. He squared his shoulders and took on a lecturing tone. “Let no man say that Jim Kirk is a coward.”

“I am certain no one has done so regarding this.”

“I am _not_ afraid of that thing.” Jim told Spock. “And I aim to prove it.”

“I assure you, that is entirely unnecessary. Particularly because the wand and its accessories are quite expensive, if the purchase is only to prove a point.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I know full well what you paid for that set of graduated steel butt plugs we used to prepare me for fisting.” Jim informed him. “ _Those_ were expensive. And besides, I’m a captain. I make enough money to buy medieval torture devices if I want to.”

“They did not use electricity in Earth’s medieval period, Jim.”

“Shut up, Spock. I’m getting that thing, and that’s final.” he crossed his arms defiantly.

Spock could have argued that he didn’t want to purchase it, but he knew Jim would purchase it himself anyway, and there was nothing he could do. He could argue with Jim (for Jim’s own good) that he didn’t want to use it, but then Jim would just use it alone. For both their sakes, he quietly added it to his final purchase. At least if he maintained some semblance of leadership in this, he could protect Jim from himself. Spock could learn all the proper safety protocols and techniques beforehand, and at least keep Jim safe. Perhaps, if they were both lucky, they could actually get some enjoyment from the experience as well. But he wasn’t going to press his luck on that.

 

~~~

 

When Jim had been in middle school, there had been an epidemic of children being sent to the school nurse, him being one of them. What all of them had in common were self-inflicted wounds on their arms, deep burn-scrapes they’d rubbed into their skin with common rubber erasers. Why? Why had they done this to themselves? To prove that they could. Of course. They were brain damaged middle schoolers with something to prove.

Before that, he recalled his elementary school days being similar. Endless games of Red Rover during which he’d nearly dislocated his shoulder as well as those of others. And something insensitively called an “Indian rub”, wherein one person would grab another’s arm with both hands, then twist their hands in opposite directions, twisting the skin and leaving it red and painful. This wasn’t something done just to bully others, but rather was a rite of passage to endure. He and other boys would proudly thrust out their arms and demand the right to endure one.

Now he stared at the open box on his bed, the violet wand staring up at him, and he felt that same impulse rise within him. He wanted to snatch up the Wartenberg wheel, the most painful implement he could find, and demand that Spock zap him with it while he grit his teeth and proved his worth. Not because he thought he’d enjoy it, but because no hypothetical other was going to best him at this contest.

Spock flipped through the safety booklet, seeing nothing he wasn’t already aware of. Then he busied himself looking over each implement, familiarizing himself while searching for obvious defects. Everything seemed to be in order. As he took over the box and its contents, he watched from the corner of his eye as Jim determinedly undressed, like a man on a mission rather than a man about to indulge in kinky play. He refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely, and wondered whether he would have time to return this toy at the starbase if Jim decided he’d had enough of it.

“Everything off.” Spock directed offhandedly as he removed his own shirt but not his pants. Honestly, Jim was a bit surprised Spock had removed anything at all, considering he was about to torture Jim. He couldn’t really see this becoming very sexual, in spite of the fact that the violet wand had been sold in a kink catalogue.

Jim, meanwhile, stripped down completely, and then sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, watching as Spock inserted the first (and from what he understood, mildest) of the attachments. It had a large glass bulb on the end, and looked like something out of an old children’s science fiction book. Spock flicked the switch and Jim’s eyes widened as an electric glow filled the globe, and in the quiet room an unsettling buzz could be heard. Suddenly, Jim’s mouth was dry, and his eyes tracked Spock’s every movement.

Then, in a moment of frozen incredulity, Jim watched as Spock hovered the wand over his own forearm, watching in fascination as the little purple lightning bolts flickered across his skin. Spock’s hiss was startled and quiet, but Jim’s own gasp was loud to his own ears. “Spock.” he said, wanting to, what... stop him? “You don’t... you don’t have to....”

“I have no intention of inflicting this device on you without having some idea of what it feels like.” Spock said. The violet wand’s effects were nowhere near his own skin now, and he looked almost entirely unaffected by the experience.

Jim’s mind flicked in a hundred different directions. Did that mean Spock had tried some of their other toys? The paddle? What part of himself might he have used it on? How hard? And how had he done it? What about the dildos, the lubes? Just how far did Spock take this edict to try their toys on himself first?

And what of Spock’s seeming non-reaction to the wand just then? Jim eyed it dubiously. Did that mean it wasn’t as intense as he’d feared? Perhaps it was nothing at all. Then again, perhaps Spock simply had a tremendously high pain tolerance. Maybe it was a Vulcan thing. Maybe it hurt, but he was able to suppress his reactions. Jim could feel his palms beginning to sweat.

What if Jim reacted strongly to the sensation? Would Spock think less of him? This whole endeavour had already been a sort of dick-measuring contest between Jim and a hypothetical world. But if Spock was going to compete (unintentionally) by testing the toy out in front of Jim, the stakes were higher. He refused to look weak.

Jim thrust out his arm with a defiant jut to his chin and glint in his eye, and Spock quirked a brow at him. Well, if Jim wanted to start with just an arm, that was fine. He hovered the wand close to Jim’s skin, just a millimetre or so, and allowed Jim to feel the sort of tickling sensation that he just had. It was little more than an itch, feather-light, like static electricity without much shock.

Jim blinked in surprise and just like that, most of the tension seeped out of his body. Was that really it? He stared in fascination at the little flickering bolts tickling across his skin. That was nothing.

“Lie back.” Spock directed Jim, now that he was a bit more relaxed. Once Jim was lying on his back on the bed, head propped up with his pillow to watch, Spock trailed the violet wand over his arm again, working up toward the shoulder and finally to his destination across one of Jim’s nipples.

Jim hissed a bit in response to the sensation, but it wasn’t really bad. It wasn’t exactly good either. It wasn’t like anything he’d felt before. A sort of tingling itch that made him want to rub it away. Before he could raise his arm and do exactly that, Spock had moved the wand over to the other nipple for similar treatment. A moment of that, then down, down toward his bellybutton.

Spock lingered over Jim’s abs and sides for a while, simply trailing the tickling toy across Jim’s skin, giving him a chance to get used to the sensation. The curious thing about the violet wand, Spock knew, was that the further you held the toy from the body, the more intense the sensation. And so once he was certain Jim had gotten used to the first sensation, he began incrementally to increase the distance between the wand and his skin, millimetre by millimetre. Then back up to take another swipe at Jim’s nipples.

Now Jim flinched away as the toy brushed against his sensitive nubs. Spock at least had the decency not to linger this time, as Jim wasn’t sure he could take such a weird feeling for long in such a sensitive location. What had been a tickling itch was now more of a stinging itch, under the skin. The kind of itch that came on suddenly and almost painfully, that required immediate scratching to alleviate. But Jim held himself still and took deep breaths, concentrating on the path Spock drew across his body. He was utterly grateful that Spock steered clear of his genitals. He’d almost had a heart attack when Spock had decided to include his thighs.

It wasn’t that the feeling itself was erotic, at least not to Jim. But he did find after some time had passed, that he was half hard. It was more that the electricity had a sensitizing effect. Everywhere it touched felt alight and alive with it, and he could imagine fancifully that he was absorbing that electric energy right into his skin, buzzing away with something that needed to be unleashed. There was also the ever-present element of fear. Not fear so intense that it would truly unnerve him, but an instinctive fear always humming just beneath his skin -- a subconscious element that was wary of someone bringing lightning itself so close to his body. He trusted Spock implicitly, that went without saying. And yet as the minutes ticked by, the sweat continued to bead in his armpits and on his brow.

While the intensity of the sensation increased with distance from the body, the violet wand did not have an infinite range. There came a point when the bolt was stretched thin enough that it would simply snap, and a sort of pinching _zap!_ would shock Jim, like a tiny crack of a whip. Jim flinched every time, uncertain when it would come, and Spock entertained himself by waiting for when Jim was least prepared for it. Occasionally Jim’s stomach would twitch, abs flexing as if to stave off the coming shock.

When Jim’s eyes had glassed over slightly and he’d become a bit breathless, only then did Spock pause, shutting off the wand. “Are you still interested in the other attachments?” Spock asked with false casualness.

For a moment, Jim simply stared. For the first few seconds, Spock’s question didn’t even register in his cloudy mind. He’d become a live wire, made entirely of sensation, and now Spock was asking him to ground himself in the here and now. It was disorienting and he had to repeat the words in his mind to make sense of them. Then he was frozen for an entirely different reason. Lost in the moment, he’d entirely forgotten about them. Now he recalled, they’d started with the easiest one, and even that Spock had managed to eke all kinds of feeling from. What would the others be like? He blinked uncertainly, then nodded. He wanted to know.

Spock nodded to himself, having expected Jim’s answer. Jim would never be satisfied until he’d met his goal, regardless of the consequences. Well, Spock would do his best to temper those rash impulses, and to ensure that said consequences were as pleasant as possible. He detached the bulbous globe, and reached for a slender glass rod instead.

Proximity to the flesh was only one axis by which to control intensity. The other was the surface area of the conductive surface. With the round bulb, the shocks had been diffuse. With the rod, they’d be sharper, and more concentrated. More intense, and likely more painful. Jim was distracted this time, his gaze cloudy and pointed at the ceiling as Spock tested the rod against his own arm. He winced at the zap, though it was nothing he couldn’t handle, and he felt fairly certain that Jim would be fine.

Jim jerked, abs spasming as the first jolt hit him. His eyes widened. That was certainly more intense. For a moment, his heart sped, and his thoughts raced through his brain, reassessing. Did he need to stop? Was it painful? The stinging line burned its way down his torso, only to snap away at his hip. A tiny insect bite that was intense but brief, then gone. Spock gave him a moment to process the new sensation, to back out if he needed to, and Jim took a steadying breath. He was fine. It had just surprised him. It was new, but not painful. Or at least, not painful like a knife, or fire, or any number of sensations he was familiar with. This was something else entirely.

Spock didn’t give Jim too long to think about it, though, and soon he began again, tracing over Jim’s body as before. First the less sensitive areas: the arms, the ribs, the outer abdomen, the outer thighs. Then more sensitive venues were added to his route: the nipples, of course. The inner thighs, the bellybutton. All the while Jim trembled deliciously, giving just the smallest grunts of discomfort, though his cock stayed consistently at half-mast. And then there were the teasing trails: down under the bellybutton, up the inner thigh, threatening but never reaching the cock or balls. Spock had no actual intention of reaching there at all, and was careful to control his proximity. But Jim couldn’t know for certain, and that tension set the mood.

Spock pondered how to end the scene. Jim was aroused, but not painfully so. Perhaps they could end it here, calm down together, and go on with their day. He couldn’t foresee actually getting Jim off from the toy alone, at least not this first time. Perhaps he could finish with the violet wand, then get Jim off by conventional means. It likely wouldn’t take long. Then again....

“Spock.” Jim interrupted Spock’s considerations with a quavering voice.

“Yes, Jim?” Spock asked, zapping Jim on the nipple and causing his breath to hitch, his body to go taut for just a second.

“I want to try the last attachment.”

Spock paused in his ministrations and pulled the toy away, causing Jim to flinch at the rubber-band snap of the bolt. “We need not do that this session, Jim.” he said gently. He knew that while Jim could sometimes enjoy intense sensations, he was hardly a masochist. Jim was already skirting that knife-edge of pleasure/pain and Spock had his misgivings about the Wartenberg pinwheel.

“I know.” Jim insisted, trying to meet Spock’s gaze through the haze of his headspace. “I want to. Please.” In spite of getting lost in the sensations, despite everything they’d tried so far, Jim still had something to prove. Not to Spock, because he knew Spock wouldn’t be disappointed or gloating. Not really to an imagined world, who saw none of this and wouldn’t care. But to himself, because he’d set himself this task. It didn’t have to make sense. And luckily for Jim, Spock had been with him long enough that he understood. As illogical as it was, Spock understood that Jim wouldn’t have peace of mind until he tried it.

The room still hung with a heady tension as Spock changed out the glass rod for the Wartenberg wheel. A metal pinwheel of tiny spikes, each ending in a pin-sharp point, it looked formidable. What once had been solely a medical instrument meant for testing nerve reactions had soon become a favourite of the kink community. And when electrical play had taken off, it hadn’t taken long for creative individuals to combine the two.

“Close your eyes.” Spock directed Jim, and Jim complied. Partially, Spock didn’t want Jim to psych himself out by seeing the wheel coming, or watching it for too long. But partially, he didn’t want to scare Jim if he should show some outward reaction to the wheel when he tried it on himself. Because as much as Spock had no interest in receiving such play, he wasn’t about to use this thing on Jim if he couldn’t at all anticipate what sort of sensation it gave. Quickly, efficiently, Spock rolled the little wheel across his forearm, and clenched his jaw tight against the flare of pain. White heat stabbed into him and left in its wake a row of brilliant green dots on his skin. He blinked down at them. So quick, and without harmful intent, and yet the pain had been intense. Each pin focused the electric current down to a fine point, in the exact opposite effect of the diffusive bulb, and left behind a wake of mild damage. The marks wouldn’t fade for several days.

Gently, firmly, Spock held Jim’s hand in his own, holding Jim’s arm out to expose the forearm. And then with a quick stroke, he rolled the wheel down the length of it. Jim’s hand clenched his own instinctively, as he’d anticipated, and he was also glad for his grip as Jim instinctively tried to pull his arm away from the sensation. Flailing could endanger them both.

As quickly as it had started, it was over, but Jim still gave a shout. “Fuck!” His whole arm tensed and his hand clasped Spock’s as he tried to make sense of the pain. This wasn’t the tickle of static or the sting of insect bites. This was a million white hot lances shooting into him, worse than any hypo-spray he’d received through the years. The needles hadn’t even pierced his skin and yet when he opened his eyes to survey the aftermath, he saw brilliant red dots left in its wake. A million white hot pokers. _This_ was the Wartenberg attachment? This was something people _wanted_? Jim’s mind reeled.

He unclasped Spock’s hand and pulled his arm away as quickly as he was allowed to, his other hand coming up to cradle it as fingers brushed over the sensitive skin. He hissed and felt his eyes water. It was over, yet a weird ache remained, a phantom burn that confused his nerve endings.

“Are you satisfied?” Spock asked softly.

Jim practically interrupted him with a hasty “Yes!”, flinching his arm even further away from Spock’s reach.

Spock turned off the violet wand and set it carefully off to the side, out of the way to be tended to later. Then he pulled a trembling Jim into his arms. Jim melted gratefully into the embrace, feeling somewhat shaken. The sort of pleasant haze from before had fizzled away with the last attachment, but Spock tried to coax him back into a happier state. He pressed kisses to Jim’s temple and murmured about how good he’d been for him. He curled his body protectively around Jim’s own, and after a moment Jim had relaxed significantly.

Spock hesitantly reached down between Jim’s legs and gave his semi-erect cock a stroke. “Would you like me to?” Spock asked, still uncertain of Jim’s mental state, even with the skin to skin contact. There was a confusing mix of feelings flitting by.

“No, ‘s okay.” Jim mumbled against him, snuggling in even further, though he didn’t pull away from Spock’s grasp. “Maybe just hold me for now?”

“Of course.” Spock said, wrapping both arms firmly around him. There would be time enough for clean-up later. And love-making. And everything else. For now, Spock wouldn’t trade this for anything.

 


	38. Vibrator

Jim woke up on his day off and Spock’s side of the bed was empty and cold. He sighed. It wasn’t unusual. A quick check with the computer for the time, and he realized Spock had probably been up for a good four hours now. Kirk tried to schedule his time with Spock as much as possible, but sometimes one of them simply had to work while the other did not. Today, Spock was overseeing all sorts of lab experiments, and Jim had scheduled a day for himself.

When he rolled out of bed, he quirked an interested brow. Spock had set out some of Jim’s casual clothes for the day, with a butt plug right on top and a note reading “ _wear me”_. It wasn’t the first time Spock had left him something like this, though it had been a while. Well, he was game. And it wasn’t like he was working anyway. It could make the day a bit more interesting, and he’d certainly be in the mood for Spock’s return that night.

Jim got up and took an absurd amount of time in the shower simply because he could. As he jacked himself off, he took a moment to lament that it wasn’t Spock there with him. But that reminded him of the little treat Spock had left out for him, and he hastened to finish up. The hot water was running out anyway.

It wasn’t the original rubber plug, Jim noted, nor was it one of the graduated stainless steel set. Interesting. He wondered what about it had convinced Spock to buy another. This one was some sort of plastic or rubberized material; Jim didn’t trouble himself wondering what exactly it was. It felt nice enough, wasn’t too big, and just brushed against his prostate in a pleasant way. He was glad he wasn’t going to be on the bridge today, because he was going to be hiding half an erection. The other small favour granted him were jeans, blessed jeans. His uniform pants hid nothing but a good pair of jeans could hide a multitude of sins.

He meandered down the hall feeling that little thrill of having his private secret, and shot off a text to Spock’s personal comm.

 

Kirk:  _Morning! Loved the surprise._

Spock: _:)_

 

Jim looked at the smiley face Spock had texted him back and smiled bemusedly. It wasn’t Spock’s typical style, but whatever. It wasn’t until he stepped into the cafeteria that he found out the other half of Spock’s little surprise, as a humming vibration sparked to life deep inside of him. He froze in place as his eyes went wide and he nearly choked on his tongue. Jim darted his eyes around to see whether anyone had noticed. They hadn’t, of course, and at this late hour of the morning there weren’t many crew members in the cafeteria anyway.

Jim tightly controlled his breathing, his walking, and reined in any outward reaction he possibly could as he marched delicately over to the food synthesizer. He was just wondering how he was going to manage eating in this state when the buzzing stopped. Damn. Well, that explained why Spock had only sent a smiley face, the green bastard. Jim had had no idea the thing was a vibrator, and apparently it was remote controlled somehow. Jim wondered how exactly Spock was doing it, and blushed at the fact that he was doing it _in the labs, while working_.

Jim had half a mind to go down to those labs and confront Spock face to face about this one, but he wouldn’t know what to say and he wasn’t about to risk Spock turning the thing back on while he was around his crew at their jobs. He was barely holding it together now as it was, in the nearly deserted cafeteria. He still kept throwing glances around in what he hoped wasn’t a totally suspicious manner.

While the toy was _definitely_ fun, Jim wasn’t sure what to do about it. This was definitely on a different level from wearing it to a grocery store or some bar or even to one of his university classes -- all of which had featured in fantasy material over the years. He debated lying low for the day, but crap... he had made plans. He was supposed to meet Bones in just a few hours for lunch in his office in sickbay. And he’d planned on going to the gym next after breakfast. He would just keep the evidence hidden by not taking off his boxers when he changed and by showering back in his quarters, since he had the time. At least, that had been the plan when he’d left his quarters. The idea of using that treadmill or the bench press with a plug buried up his ass had been attractive to him. But if the thing was going to start buzzing....

Mortified, Jim wondered whether anyone could actually _hear_ the thing. He didn’t think so. He couldn’t really hear it himself when it had turned on. He’d really only felt it. But _still_. And even if they couldn’t hear it, there was no way he could keep from getting an erection from it. Right now the table was his only saving grace and the thing had been off for several minutes. What if it went off while he was lifting something heavy?

What was the alternative? Sitting in his room all day. Taking out the plug. No way in hell was he going to do that. Spock had thrown down a gauntlet, and the game was on.

 

~~~

 

Jim was glad he’d chosen the treadmill. He had something to brace himself against when the plug went off again while he was running and his knees went weak, nearly ending in disaster. It had been a wise decision to avoid lifting any heavy weights. Perhaps his wisest decision to date. Now, working out with an anal plug? A vibrating one at that? Not his wisest decision. Although, the ache it produced was sort of exquisite -- less painful, and more reminiscent of a good night.

Jim was about ready for said “good night” right about then, and it was still morning. Spock hadn’t told him not to jack off. In fact, he’d done so once already that day, in the shower. But that had been before all of this. He had half a mind to take the edge off back in his quarters during his post-workout shower, before lunch with Bones. Otherwise, things might start to get _very_ uncomfortable. Jim bit his lip as he considered it. But no... if he could just hold off, that would make Spock’s return that evening all the more enjoyable.

He hated this. He wished Spock had given some indication about whether he was to wait or not. When exactly had he become so enamoured of orders?

Jim gripped the handles of the treadmill harder, determined to finish his workout, and more than a little turned on. Luckily, the gym was empty at present. Really, it was rarely full, and then only in the early mornings and the evenings. People were creatures of habit, and tended not to shift much from traditional gym hours even if their schedules allowed it. It was for precisely that reason Jim liked to take advantage of odd hours.

Spock left the vibrator on a bit longer this time. All of it was controlled remotely through his personal PADD, and as he was doing very little actual work today overseeing things in the labs, he had no reason to put the PADD down. It was a lazy day for him, reading reports, signing off on things, and wasting time catching up on non-mandatory reading. That left him plenty of time to fuss with Jim’s vibrator. Plenty of time to wonder just what Jim was up to.

He had a vague idea of what Jim’s plans were for the day, of course. Firstly, because he knew Jim’s routines, and secondly because Jim had mentioned much of it at various times in conversation. Right about now? Jim would either be in the gym, catching up on reports, or would be bothering McCoy in sickbay ahead of their lunch date. Unless the vibrator had caused Jim to alter his routine in some way. Spock wondered idly whether Jim were somewhere appropriate or not as the minutes ticked by. Perhaps he’d gone back to his room. Perhaps he was taking advantage of the stimulation to get himself off. Spock switched the vibrator back off. He’d go again over lunch.

 

~~~

 

Jim took a fast, cold shower. On the way back to his rooms he’d been seriously debating whether or not to get himself off. He’d been undecided right up until the moment when the vibrations abruptly cut off. It was madness. Now he wanted to kill what remained of his erection as quickly as possible so that he could concentrate on a perfectly platonic and normal lunch with Bones.

“Bones!”

“You’re early.” McCoy groused. He was sitting at his desk when Jim arrived with trays laden with greasy lunches. He eyed them skeptically. “You’re gonna give us both a heart attack serving food like that.”

“Good thing we’re in sickbay.” Jim grinned. It had been a brilliant move on his part to pick up the food ahead of time. Last time he’d let Bones make the selections, he’d ended up with _leaves_. Like, rabbit food leaves. He was pretty sure those weren’t even edible. Never mind that other people kept calling them “salads” and raving about them. Leaves made him sad.

“No booze?” Jim half joked. It seemed half the time he visited Bones the man managed to produce some illicit bottle of something for them to share.

“I’m on duty.” McCoy snapped at him.

Jim rolled his eyes. “You’re on lunch break and you’ve got two hours of paperwork after that.”

“Unless some idiot needs me to sew a limb back on.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure if someone needs major surgery it’s not going to comply with your schedule anyway.” Jim pointed out unhelpfully, then dug into his burger.

McCoy levelled him with an unimpressed glare and followed suit, and soon they were bantering back and forth as usual. Jim shifted around subtly in his seat, and the plug dug further into his ass, pressing pleasantly against his prostate. He was careful not to move too much, or in such a way to draw attention to himself, and quite enjoyed having his secret. He only half listened to what Bones was griping about this time, while the other half of his brain supplied him with ideas of what he could do to Spock when he got off shift, or what Spock might do to him.

“Are you even payin’ attention?” Bones stabbed a fry in the air in his direction.

“What? Sure, Bones.” Jim gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence that McCoy didn’t believe for a second. Jim meant to prove that he’d been paying attention, to repeat something, _anything_ about what Bones had been saying. Maybe he wasn’t one hundred percent on task, but he’d actually been listening at least a little. He had good intentions. But then something happened that sent all thoughts flying from his head. The vibrator switched on again.

Jim’s stomach clenched, and his eyes flicked to Bones with a wide-eyed stare. He quickly diverted his gaze and went for casual. Could Bones hear it? No. He couldn’t even hear it himself, thank god. But it felt like he should be able to hear it, and as he felt it buzzing away he almost imagined he could hear what it would sound like. The steady low hum thrummed inside of him, pressed all the more firmly against his prostate since he was sitting down, the plug wedged as close as it could get.

Spock must have known he’d be sitting down at lunch, Jim thought to himself. And on that thought, he wondered whether he’d mentioned to Spock he was meeting with Bones. Had Spock done this on purpose? Just how devious was his Vulcan? He couldn’t be sure what he had or hadn’t mentioned but he had his suspicions. Oh, and Bones was still talking. Crap.

“Jim, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah. Fine. I just got distracted. What were we talking about? Something Christine said?”

McCoy rolled his eyes skyward. “Why do I even bother?”

Jim debated the merits of sticking it out the rest of lunch with Bones, but he’d already eaten most of his food so he decided that was good enough excuse to take off. He stuffed the last bite of his burger in his mouth and tried to give a winning smile around it. Anyway, Bones knew he hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation. He probably wouldn’t be too put out if he left.

“Bye, Bones!” Jim said around his food, moving toward the door.

“You got somewhere to be?” McCoy griped, but with no real heat to it.

“Always!” Jim returned, already on his way.

 

~~~

 

Jim squirmed in his desk chair, pretending to get something done. Anything, really. It was still the lunch hour, and the vibrator hadn’t stopped. His brow was damp with sweat and he was fully erect, but he didn’t want to text Spock or try to take care of his erection, because that would ruin the game. If Spock didn’t stop soon, though, he was going to ruin his underwear.

Jim stared at his computer screen without seeing it. He’d pulled up reports. He’d pulled up erotica. Cat pictures. Anything to distract him, but nothing worked. His eyes drifted toward the bedroom. Maybe lying down would help. Then the vibrator wouldn’t press so directly against his prostate. But if he were in the bed, he’d be all the more tempted to get himself off. No, definitely the bed was out. It would set the wrong precedent.

What would he normally do to curb arousal? Jim thought as hard as he could through his clouded mind. His first answer: have an orgasm. Nope. That wouldn’t do. Exercise! Yes, right. That had been how he’d gotten through most of middle and high school. But he’d already been to the gym, and the thought of trying to do push-ups or sit-ups in his quarters with this _thing_ going off inside of him only made him shudder in heady anticipation. Somehow, he didn’t think it would help him out this time. And there was always the cold shower approach, but he’d already had a cold shower, and he’d already showered twice today, so he ruled that out.

That left texting Spock.

 

Kirk: _Spock_

Spock: _Auto-Reply: At A Meeting_

 

“Oh my fucking god you green-blooded asshole. You are not in a meeting right now.” Jim glared down at his personal communicator. It was lunch time anyway. Spock might, _might_ be eating his lunch in the labs, because he did that sometimes. He might have skipped lunch if he’d really gotten into something. But what about the rest of the crew? They were at lunch, and Spock was not in a meeting. He was having his communicator lie for him.

Unless he was actually in a meeting. He might have just scheduled it to coincide with the vibrator to be evil. Jim turned that idea over in his mind. He had half a mind to march down to the science labs and find out what was going on, but that would mean exposing his not so little problem to half the crew of the _Enterprise_ , and no. Not happening.

You know what? He was going to come, he decided. And it would be all Spock’s fault. He wouldn’t even have to touch himself, really. He’d just lie back and let it happen, and Spock would ruin his own game of teasing. Unless that was the goal. And Spock would have no way to know when Jim had orgasmed. He felt dread pool in his stomach at the thought of that thing buzzing away after he’d spent his load. He and Spock had played around with post orgasm torture before, and it would be just like Spock to keep going with it.

Lost in the haze of complete indecision, Jim was about to lose control in his pants whether he wanted to or not. And then it stopped. He let out a small whimper at the abrupt change and clenched his fists, taking slow breaths. Jim’s entire body quivered with tension and lust. He was still painfully erect, and his ass still clenched reflexively around the plug. He couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad that the incessant vibrations had finally stopped. His communicator pinged with a text.

 

Spock: _Did you enjoy your lunch?_

 

Jim stared incredulously down at the message, reading and re-reading it. Was he serious? What was he supposed to reply to that? Yes or no? With shaking hands, he answered honestly.

 

Kirk: _Yes._

 

_~~~_

 

Jim stuck to his quarters after lunch. The vibrator remained silent for long enough that he did eventually lose his erection, and his mind cleared enough for him to do some of the reading he’d been meaning to do. It wasn’t exactly a social day off, but he also enjoyed the time to himself on occasion. And there was no way in hell he was going to try and socialize like this.

The vibrator went on and off at random intervals, and remained on for varying lengths of time. There seemed to be no pattern to it, and Jim had learned to just lie back and ride it out, reduced to a trembling mess every time. He didn’t try to text Spock about it again, but found himself compulsively checking the time, counting down the hours and minutes until Spock would come back to their quarters and take care of him.

He lost his clothes by intervals as well. He was so hot, and his shirt was soaked with sweat. It was the first to go. Then the pants, because why torture his erection with unnecessary confinement? By the time Spock’s shift was over, Jim was fully naked in the bed, and trembling with arousal. It was all he could do to hold off, to keep his hands away from his dick. Spock would be here any second. And he _must_ be in the mood to do something right now, because the vibrator had been left on now for long minutes.

When the door snicked open, Jim stared toward the sleep alcove entrance with heated desperation. “Spock.” he called out pitifully. “Please?”

Spock stalked into the room, lithe and feline as always. “I take it you’re enjoying the new toy?” Spock asked with a small smile. He sat himself on the bed beside Jim and stroked his fingers through Jim’s hair. Jim leaned into the touch, rolled onto his side with fingers clenching the sheets to keep from touching himself, from coming too soon.

But now Spock was here. He’d take care of him. Finally. “Yeah.” he answered breathlessly. “Spock, please. You’ve got to.” he begged. What Spock had to do went without saying. Touch him, take him, do something, anything.

Spock sat there straight-backed and immaculate, still in his uniform. “You want to come.” Spock observed simply.

Jim nodded frantically, eyes falling closed.

“Go ahead.” Spock coaxed.

Jim’s eyes flew open as he looked up at Spock. “What?” he asked hazily.

“You’re right on the edge.” Spock observed, and his free hand moved back to touch the base of the plug, rocking it into Jim, pressing it back and forth along his prostate. Jim groaned and trembled. “You can let yourself go now, Jim.”

Jim looked up at Spock helplessly. Spock wasn’t going to touch him? He bit his lip, trying to hide his disappointment, and hesitantly moved his hand down toward his cock. Spock caught him by the wrist and shook his head.

“You don’t need that.” Spock told him, and Jim felt a lance of heat through his spine. Spock wanted him to come like this. Untouched, with only the vibrator buried in his ass, as he’d been threatening to do all day. Just _lying here_ , while Spock watched.

Jim closed his eyes and gripped the sheets again, concentrating on the feeling inside of him as he gasped and clenched against it. He rocked his hips slightly, groaning softly and trying for a better angle. Spock indulged him, pressing against the base of the plug, rocking it within him. He’d been on edge so long, holding himself back, that Jim didn’t come right away. It took work, both physical and mental, to allow himself to fall over that edge.

When he did, the effect was explosive. He came so hard he thought he might black out, though he was still desperate to _touch himself_. And Spock continued rocking that humming little toy back and forth, back and forth inside of him. It was too much, too intense, too sensitive after hours of teasing. Jim let out a choked sound of pleasure and discomfort intermixed, though he didn’t want it to stop, not while he was still clenching around it and spurting wetly onto the bed.

Only when it was clear he’d finished and he’d let out a little whine of complaint did Spock switch off the toy with a few quick taps on his PADD. Then he carefully removed it and set it aside, pulling Jim to him and away from the wet spot.

Jim curled into Spock, drifting slightly and still feeling a bit oversensitized. He knew for a fact he’d be ready to go again in an hour or so. After a day like today, he felt he’d earned a few orgasms. Though hopefully the next one would be sans vibrator. He wasn’t sure he could handle another second of that.

“Did you enjoy your day off?” Spock prompted him after a moment of recovery.

Jim grinned. “If that’s your idea of giving me a good day off, I’m totally on board.” Jim admitted. “You should do things like that more often.”

“Noted.” Spock answered with a smirk. He already had a few ideas.

 


	39. Prostate Massager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're uncertain what a prostate massager is, you might search for "Aneros". Although the handle for the Aneros toys seems to stick out more than would be plausible to wear under clothes or sit with, I imagine that something exists in the time and place of my fic. that is perfect for that purpose. Also, the Aneros isn't meant to be worn for hours and hours at a time, but whatever [a. this is porn and b. people do it anyway]. Maybe one in the future will be designed specifically for long term use! As far as the different kinds of orgasms mentioned, that is supposed to all be possible with such toys according to both the manufacturers and various testimonials. :)

“Okay that’s two toys now I knew nothing about.” Jim complained. “When did you get these? And where have you been keeping them?”

“I procured them at the last starbase.” Spock answered simply, ignoring the second half of that question. Jim did not need encouragement in finding his hidden stash.

“Wait. I helped you place that order. I was there to open the box!” he threw his arms in the air.

“You were there to open the violet wand box.” Spock answered. It had been an easy diversion, while he squirreled the rest of the toys away.

“What is this thing anyway?” Jim asked, more fixated on the butt plug (???) that Spock had given him. It didn’t look like any butt plug he’d ever seen. His other plugs might be described as conical, or even more fancifully as mushroom shaped. This was a sort of... nubby blob? And what the hell was the sticky-outy bit for? “Is this meant to go in me?”

“It’s a prostate massager.”

“Uhmm...”

“It is meant to go in you.” Spock clarified.

“’Kay.” Jim agreed easily. “And you want me to wear this for how long?”

“However long you feel you can handle it.” Spock said lightly, and Jim’s eyes sparked with excitement.

It wasn’t exactly a day off for him. He just didn’t have bridge duty. Now, it was the usual ungodly hour of their rising. Earlier than he would have normally woken himself, because he and Spock ended up sharing the shower and often got distracted before, during, and after. They’d just finished their shower time ritual when Spock had sprung this on him. Knowing that he’d mostly have the privacy to pull it off, Jim had eagerly accepted the terms.

Jim finished hastily drying his hair and reached out for the lube, jabbing his fingers into himself probably more quickly than was warranted, but he was an impatient man, even when it came to his own body. Maybe especially then. “Which end of this is the front?” Jim asked, still eyeing the misshapen dildo skeptically.

Spock scooped up the massager and slicked it with lube. As soon as Jim moved his fingers out of the way, Spock oriented it properly and began to push it steadily in. Inside, Jim could feel the usual stretch, and then the way the nubs seemed to conform perfectly to his anatomy, pressing more snugly against his prostate than any previous plug had. He was already impressed.

“Oh.” he said, eyes widening slightly at the feel of it. He straightened out, shifting experimentally, and began to sense the purpose of the external bit. It snugged up against his taint, gently pressing against his prostate from without. His ass flexed instinctively around the toy, which caused the external nub to press against him, which caused him to flex.... He had to consciously relax himself and take a deep breath to break the natural rhythm of it. He still had breakfast to attend to, in full uniform, and he wasn’t about to sport a full erection in front of his crew.

Spock smirked, eyes sparkling with amusement already.

“Oh you’re just loving this, aren’t you?” Jim accused him with a smiling glare.

“Indeed.” Spock agreed, already immaculate in his uniform as Jim struggled into his own. “Feel free to use the cage if you feel you cannot keep yourself decent.” he suggested, and Jim glared at him again.

There was no need to bring the chastity device into this. He’d be alone most of the day anyway. He just had to get through a meal. “Unnecessary, Mister Spock. As you can see, I have the situation perfectly under control.”

And he did more or less. He was only a bit hard and had arranged himself in the least obvious way possible, calling upon years of experience in hiding erections. His high school years had truly been put to good use.

Looking halfway decent and with his captainly persona in place, Jim led the way to the cafeteria, Spock in tow as usual, his stalwart shadow.

 

~~~

 

“Why are you in such a good mood?” Bones scowled from his cup of coffee, the only evidence of vice on his entire tray. His breakfast, as always, looked like an advertisement for a Well Balanced Breakfast, and made Jim sad. His own tray might have passed more for what a lumberjack would eat and Bones never ceased to give it the stink eye. Whatever. Eggs were healthy. He did his best to ignore Spock’s breakfast entirely, because Spock was awesome but his breakfast of some sort of porridge was even sadder than Bones’.

“No bridge duty.” Jim said with a bright smile, and it wasn’t even a lie. That was cause enough to put him in a good mood. Of course the other thing brightening his day was wedged in his ass at the moment, causing all sorts of interesting new sensations for him. Not to mention the thrill of the secret. Bones didn’t need to know about that.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.”

“I’ve got a video call with Headquarters this morning.” Jim told him. “But I can take that from my quarters. Then a full day of mostly paperwork.”

“Goody.” Bones rolled his eyes. “You must be absorbing Spock’s personality. I thought only the robot could get excited about a full day of paperwork.”

“It means I get to lay in bed all day to do it if I want.” Jim told him. “I don’t even have to wear pants. It’s like working from home or taking a half day.”

“If you say so. I’d rather perform open heart surgery than dedicate a full day to that crap.”

“That’s because you’re creepy.”

Bones stabbed his fork in the air in Jim’s direction. “You try tellin’ me surgery’s creepy next time you’re in need of it.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be screaming in pain or passed out if I need major surgery.” Jim pointed out. “Besides, it’s just a fact. Doctors are inherently creepy. Biology is creepy. Back me up on this, Spock.”

“I have always been dubious of the doctor’s beads and rattles.” Spock answered, smoothly avoiding the actual accusations Jim had made. Jim nodded in satisfaction, a smug smile on his face.

“It’s too early for this.” Bones griped.

“You snooze, you lose.” Jim informed him. He was feeling particularly buoyant at the moment, and couldn’t wait to get back to his quarters and really see what this thing could do. He checked the time. If he finished eating quickly, he’d have a good half hour to fool around before his conference call. And even then, he only had to keep his face straight. They’d have no idea on the other end whether or not he had an erection. This was the best day, and Spock had the best ideas. He wondered vaguely what other ideas Spock had up his sleeve and made a mental note to search for his hidden stash.

His ass clenched involuntarily against the plug and sent an intense ripple of pleasure through him. He hid his reaction behind an enthusiastic food-moan, or at least he hoped he did. On that note, it was definitely time to leave. Spock’s eyes were slightly too amused, and Bones’ were narrowing in suspicion. Jim folded the rest of his eggs up in toast and stuffed it in his mouth, giving a half hearted wave as he made his way back to his quarters at a brisk and hopefully captainly pace.

 

~~~

 

Walking with this particular plug, Jim learned, was much more intense than with a normal one. It was almost painful, uncomfortable in his attempts not to clench against it and start off the whole domino effect all over again. By the time he got back to the safety of his quarters, he realized he’d been holding his breath, and gasped for air, holding onto the door frame for dear life. Really, he wanted to just let this thing run its course to a natural conclusion, and he could already see the real potential of the toy. Unfortunately, he had a meeting in half an hour.

Jim eyed the bed longingly. He resisted the urge to strip off his uniform shirt or lie down. His upper half, at least, couldn’t afford to appear disheveled. Jim slapped his cheeks a few times and tried to focus. “Okay.” he pep-talked himself. “You can do this. Focus, J.T. and at least try to _look_ like a captain in front of the admiralty.”

Jim sat himself down at his desk with his shoulders set and his jaw clenched, trying to exude a sense of maturity and captainly poise. He knew for a fact that Headquarters still saw him as some kid they’d thrust into the captain’s chair too early, and he was determined to prove them wrong. He called up the reports he was scheduled to discuss and began to review them, shutting everything else out. He was almost successful at it.

By the time the conference call came, Jim had managed to work himself into a tense ball of locked muscles, anus included. It wasn’t at all pleasant, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He could already feel his palms sweating, and he was sure locking his jaw like that couldn’t be healthy. He’d take it up with Bones later. Or maybe he’d make an appointment with Bones’ liquor collection instead.

His computer pinged as the message was piped through, right on schedule, and he took a moment to smooth his unruly hair and straighten his shirt, then it was go time.

 

~~~

 

Tension, Jim learned, was not the way to enjoy a prostate massage. And wearing a toy while on a video call with Headquarters wasn’t his or Spock’s best idea. By the time he finished, like every other time he’d finished talking to bureaucrats, he kind of wanted to punch a wall.

He checked the time. He still had a few hours to kill before lunch. He wanted to get out of his quarters, to stretch his legs and get a change of scenery, but he wasn’t sure whether it was a wise idea. He’d meant to work on paperwork for the rest of the day, but he was going to go crazy if he didn’t do something else. He glanced down at his crotch consideringly. No erection -- not after that call. He decided to chance it, and before he’d made a conscious decision Jim was out his door and on the way to Engineering.

 _Shift. Press. Nudge. Clench_. There was a rhythm to it, and Jim was helpless to stave it off. He hid himself in a rarely used alcove and tried to breathe through it. Going to Engineering had been a bad idea. One of his worst ideas, maybe. In the short time he’d been seated in that meeting (well, not so short -- the meeting had lasted ages) he’d forgotten just how insidious this thing was when he moved with it. Never before had he had so little control over his body’s reactions. And he understood now why the thing was called a prostate _massager_ , in spite of the lack of any sort of vibrations. A vibrator would have been entirely unnecessary, as the body’s natural reaction to its design was to _clench, clench, clench_ , causing it to _nudge, nudge, nudge_ itself.

 

On the bridge, Spock monitored the ship communications with interest. When the video call cut off, he waited five minutes then quietly queried the ship for the captain’s location. If anyone noticed his queries, there wouldn’t be any questions even from those who didn’t yet know of his and Jim’s relationship, because he was always trailing in the captain’s shadow. When he located Jim and mapped his trajectory toward Engineering, he quietly left the Con. to Sulu and made his way out.

“Captain.”

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin, whirling around to face Spock. “Jesus, Spock. Where did you come from? And who’s running my ship?” he scowled.

“I left command to the capable hands of Lieutenant Sulu.” Spock informed him, glancing up and down the hall, hands clasped professionally. “I was wondering if when you had some free time, I might have a word, Captain.”

“Of course, Mister Spock.” Jim agreed, and gestured for Spock to lead the way. Neither of them mentioned Jim’s raging erection, or the fact that he was now trailing Spock. Spock made for the turbo-lift and sent it toward the captain’s quarters. He turned a more critical gaze toward Jim.

Jim was holding it together admirably, but Spock could tell all was not well. Every line of Jim’s body was tense, and in spite of the obvious evidence of his arousal, Spock could tell that the tension wasn’t merely sexual. “Computer, hold lift.” he commanded, and then reached out to tip Jim’s chin toward him, meeting his eyes. Holding Jim’s gaze, and using his telepathy to the extent he could from the skin to skin contact, he asked. “How are you holding up?”

Jim swallowed, his guard falling slightly as he looked back at Spock. He wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable outside of their quarters, and he wasn’t certain that he liked it. But he’d been having a quiet anxiety attack in the hallway so he supposed it was only fair that Spock come to check on him. Funny how the Vulcan had such an uncanny ability to know when he was in trouble. “Fine. I’m fine.” he answered.

“You do not seem fine. Are you in any pain?”

“No. Not really.” Jim shrugged. Unless you counted the knots he’d built in his shoulders from holding tension. He rolled his head on his neck. “Those video calls just have a way of getting under my skin, and this didn’t make it any easier.”

“I apologize.” Spock said seriously. “It is not my intent to interfere with your duties.” Or at least not seriously. Jim squirming amusingly for a while was one thing. Actually interfering with his ability to captain was quite another. And in this case, it seemed to have shaken Jim’s confidence, which was already tenuous when dealing with the admiralty. He’d hoped it would have been a pleasant distraction during the call, especially since whoever was on the other end of the line would have no idea of it, but the evidence before Spock now was that Jim was a frazzled ball of tension. Perhaps he’d miscalculated and it was time to correct course.

“What? No, it’s fine.” Jim waved it off, feeling put on the spot. He was just being a spaz about this. It really wasn’t Spock’s fault that he’d let the call get to him, or that he was letting the toy get to him, or that he was just full of bad decisions in general today. “Computer: Resume lift.” Jim instructed, determined to just get back to his room. Spock followed him out, his shadow as always.

As soon as his door snicked shut, Spock crowded him in against the wall. “ _Jim_.” Spock got his attention again, still way too serious and still determined to _talk_ about this. Jim writhed with discomfort that wasn’t at all physical. He met Spock’s eyes reluctantly.

“The toy is best enjoyed when you’re _relaxed_.” Spock explained. “If you’ll feel more relaxed after your shift, then we’ll use it then.”

“It’s fine.”

“It is not.”

“Spock.” Jim said in exasperation, squinting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“If you cannot be calm, I will end the scene.” Spock said bluntly, and that certainly got Jim’s attention. Spock hadn’t once ended their play so abruptly. He could fight him on this, he knew he could, but what would be the point? To torture himself all day and get nothing out of it? Somewhere, he’d taken a wrong turn. Several wrong turns, in fact. And he was flustered, and stressed out, and had a massive erection and wasn’t thinking very clearly.

“Okay.” he agreed, trying to loosen the tension in his shoulders. “You’re right. I was going to do paperwork after the video call, so that’s what I’ll do. In the bed, in my p.j.’s.” he gave Spock a hesitant smile.

Spock’s first two fingers moved to instinctively stroke Jim’s, and he pressed his forehead against Jim’s own. “Good.”

“And in the meantime, you’d better mind my store, Mister Spock.” Jim teased, but there was a hint of real authority to his voice.

“I shall return with lunch.” Spock promised him, heading for the door, though his eyes lingered long enough to ensure that Jim was actually heading to bed and getting himself more comfortable. Only when he was convinced this would not end in disaster did he cede control back to his captain, and head back to his post.

 

~~~

 

Jim stripped off his uniform shirt and tossed it aside. Next came his boots and pants, but rather than hanging around in his boxers he snagged Spock’s favourite pyjama pants. They were incredibly soft and had a drawstring waist so they were ideal for sharing, really. This was more comfortable, and seemed a more suitable setting for erotic play. Calmer and more clear-headed, he made himself a nest in bed with PADD in hand and began the unending arduous process of paperwork.

In the dim room and cosy clothing, Jim’s muscles began to loosen steadily, and his jaw finally began to unclench. And the toy, which had become a nuisance he’d mostly resigned himself to, became pleasant again. As it shifted gently within him, he breathed into the natural rhythm and let himself go with it. Before long, he’d set his paperwork aside, and let his eyes drift shut. The most remarkable feeling was building in his gut. Something was mounting, growing, and a sort of heat suffused him, but it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He observed it in a sort of detached wonder and then all at once he seized up, his ass contracting around the toy more intensely than before.

Jim blinked in surprise, staring up at his ceiling. It was like an orgasm, but he hadn’t come. What _was_ that? He’d had anal orgasms before, coming without touching his cock, but this was something different from that. In his experience, it was something entirely unique to this toy.

He had a tingly, floaty feeling all over but he wasn’t over-sensitized like he often felt after a proper orgasm, nor did he feel like he needed a nap. Weird. Everything seemed to have reached a sort of steady state again, and Jim picked up his PADD and slowly got back to work.

 

~~~

 

By the time Spock entered Jim’s quarters around lunch, laden with trays of food, Jim had entirely given up on the pretence of working. The PADDs had been flung aside, and he was sprawled on the bed, clothes abandoned, as he slowly stroked his cock and another wave of bliss overtook him. He moaned and gripped himself tightly to be sure he refrained from actually ejaculating, though he wanted to. He wanted to desperately. He just didn’t want Spock to miss the show.

“Spock.” Jim called out huskily, his eyes hooded with lust and sweat dripping down his face.

Spock set the food aside, his mouth going dry at the sight of his _t’hy’la_. It looked as if Jim had really taken to the new toy after all. He hadn’t been certain what he’d find at lunch, half afraid that Jim’s tension would have mounted again and ruined the whole experience for him. But apparently Jim had managed to let himself go. Now he laid there, gently rolling his hips, and Spock could make out by the flex of his ass, the shift of the outer parts of the toy, that Jim rhythmically clenched around it.

Spock gave himself a moment to simply drink in the picture of wanton lust that was Jim Kirk. Not for the first time, he wished that he could monitor Jim remotely on days like today. It was fun to imagine from his station on the bridge what might be happening to Jim at that moment. But the reality was always far more enticing than anything his mind could conjure. It was messy, and tangible, and full of taste and smell and sound.

Spock stalked around to the side of the bed and sat himself beside Jim, for a moment just stroking his fingers through Jim’s damp hair as Jim stared up at him passively, giving a sultry smile. “Spock, you’ve _got_ to get me off over lunch.” Jim told him with a grin. “Or I’m not going to finish those forms.” he gestured vaguely toward the discarded PADDs.

Spock smirked. He’d already been planning to. “I wouldn’t want to interfere with your duties.” he reiterated his stance from earlier. Spock nudged Jim’s hand away from his cock and gave it a languid stroke as Jim sighed and relaxed gratefully into the sensation. Of course it wasn’t enough.

Jim tried to thrust his hips upward toward Spock’s fist, but the Vulcan was onto him as always and simply pulled his hand away every time Jim stopped cooperating. “Spock, come on.” Jim urged.

“Have you had any orgasms yet?” Spock asked curiously. He was fairly certain Jim had been in the throes of an anal orgasm when he’d walked into the room.

Jim’s mouth opened to deny it, but then he paused. “I’m not sure.” he said, licking his lips. And wasn’t that a weird thing to answer? He’d been pretty certain what an orgasm was up until now, but this was something else. “I didn’t ejaculate, if that’s what you’re asking.” he tried to clarify.

“It is not.” Spock said. “It is possible to have a series of purely anal orgasms with the use of such a device. Normally, it would take a good deal of practice, but you seem to be a natural.” His teasing words caused Jim to shudder with arousal and slight embarrassment.

Jim wasn’t sure about what Spock was saying, but he took his word for it. He was far too aroused to have in-depth discussions on biology. “So when I said I needed to get off during lunch, I meant in the usual way.” Jim clarified, trying to urge Spock toward something more productive than those teasing touches. He shuddered, and clenched intentionally, groaning at the sensation and trying for deeper stimulation.

“Do you know,” Spock went on conversationally, “one is able to have a conventional orgasm with this toy alone? It really shouldn’t be too difficult for you.” Spock explained. “You’ve already come, cock untouched, numerous times. And you seem to have a knack for the prostate massager.”

Jim whined as what Spock was saying sank in. “Spock I _can’t_.” he pleaded. “Believe me. I’ve been stuck like this for hours.”

“But you were trying to hold back, were you not?” Spock asked knowingly. It wasn’t exactly a rule that Jim shouldn’t come without Spock around, but whenever they played these games it seemed to be an unspoken rule that Jim took it upon himself to enforce.

“Maybe but --”

“Try.” Spock asked simply, pulling his hand entirely away from Jim’s cock and leaving him thrusting into the air. He stroked his fingers lovingly over Jim’s stomach, abs clenched in desperation.

Jim stared up at Spock, wanting to beg, wanting Spock to help him, but wanting to do this for Spock. To not be a disappointment. And doing it at Spock’s bidding, while Spock watched, was more than a little hot.

“How?” Jim asked with a quavering voice. He would try.

“The deeper you can clench the toy against your prostate, the more likely you’ll trigger ejaculation.” Spock explained. “Try to work to a steady rhythm.” Spock subtly adjusted Jim’s body to lean into him. His own body surrounded Jim, holding his back, his hips, his legs in just such a way that Jim could feel the difference in how the toy sat inside of him. The contact against his prostate was full-on, and when he clenched it seemed to glide easily more deeply inside of him.

When Jim had clenched earlier, it had been an instinctive, at times unconscious reaction. Gentle, and somewhat unpredictable. Now he worked with intent. Clench. _Relax. Breathe._

It felt good -- it felt _amazing_ , but Jim was still skeptical that this alone would work for him. He itched to reach for his cock, or even to reach for the toy, to manipulate it with his hands, work it against himself with just the right strength, the right angle. But Spock was rarely wrong about these things. He tried not to focus too hard on the orgasm itself, and instead on the rhythmic flex of his muscles.

It was work. His stomach clenched as well, and his anal muscles strained to do his bidding, unused to such exercise. As the minutes passed, Jim’s thighs trembled as well, and he was grateful for the tangle of Spock’s limbs holding him splayed in the perfect position so that he didn’t have to exert any energy toward holding it.

Spock’s free hand, the one not helping to support Jim, came up to frame Jim’s face, finding the meld points with ease, even from behind. It was simple after so many times to slip in alongside Jim’s mind -- not in a deep meld, but enough to get more of a sense of what Jim was feeling. Spock was always struck by just how much these sexual forays bowled him over.

They were climbing, climbing. Both of their eyes had fallen shut, and there was something Jim sensed was just out of his reach. Time hung on that precipice, and then he was tipping over, coming with a relieved moan as his body shook apart, his ass clenching down on the toy harder than he would have thought was possible.

And then Spock’s hand had left his face as he blinked back into the reality of the room, aware that Spock was finally, _finally_ touching his cock as he stroked him through the last feeble twitches of his orgasm.

Once Jim was calm and relatively clean, Spock hooked a finger back behind him to tug the prostate massager free. Jim almost protested, but Spock overrode him. “Shower, lunch, paperwork.” Spock said simply, and Jim nodded his agreement. As appealing as the thought was to continue this experiment indefinitely, he was tired and a bit sore. And now that Spock had mentioned food, he was hungry as well. And he very much doubted he would actually finish his paperwork if he kept at it with that thing.

It was an innocuous looking device. Weirdly shaped, but not much different from all of his other insertables. But that thing, Jim had learned, was entirely too devious. He made a mental note to schedule his next time with it for when he had the day free. There was no way he could fool himself -- the prostate massager had defeated him. There was no getting work done with something that good in his ass.

 


	40. Web Cam

Jim was all checked into his cushy hotel room at the starbase, while the _Enterprise_ flew off to check out some nearby nebula. Meanwhile, he was stuck at some big wig conference with Starfleet admiralty. It wasn’t the worst, because he was only being asked to speak for half an hour over the course of the entire weekend, and at least he wasn’t in trouble this time. But it wasn’t the best, because he missed his ship, and more than that he missed Spock.

Which was why he was hurrying out of his shower, towel slung around his hips and a shirt in his hands as he heard his personal communicator ping right on time. He switched it to the viewscreen and abandoned the shirt as Spock came into view. Jim smiled.

“Good evening, Captain.” Spock said formally, his face the only thing in view.

“Spock.” Jim grinned.

“I take it you are checked into your hotel room as planned?”

“I’m all set for the night.” Jim assured, settling into his bed with his PADD on his lap. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Spock panned the viewscreen out to encompass him entirely. He was spread out on their bed back on the _Enterprise,_ wearing only the silky panties Jim had purchased him before.

“Good.” Spock said with a smirk. “Then you have the time and privacy to indulge me.”

Jim’s mind went blank and his mouth went dry. Spock was seriously going to do cam. sex with him. _No way_. “Uhm.” he said, blinking dumbly at the camera. “Yeah. I mean yes. Definitely.”

“Adjust the camera and get rid of the towel.” Spock instructed. “I want a good view.”

Jim had never scrambled so fast in his life. Already he was nearly fully erect as he did his best to angle the camera on the night stand and prop up the pillows to give Spock an easy line of sight to his whole body. Spock continued to speak on the other end.

“In your bag you’ll find a tube of lubricant. Get it.”

Jim hadn’t had a chance to unpack his bag yet, having used the hotel’s provided toiletries for his shower, and having grabbed only a fresh shirt so far, and only from the top of the bag. Spock had been through his things? What else was in there? What might be missing? He dug through it with his heart racing, and found the lubricant tucked neatly away, nothing else out of the ordinary jumping out at him. Right. Lubricant. Spock. He got himself back into the frame.

“Stroke yourself for me.” Spock instructed, watching impassively, his own long legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankle. He made no move to mirror any of Jim’s actions -- but then, why would he? “Not so fast. We have time.” Spock instructed, and watched as Jim slowed his motions, adding more lube and sinking into the sensations.

He wished Jim were on the _Enterprise_ , or he with Jim, but it wasn’t possible. And really, they were grown men. They should be able to spend a few days apart. It really wasn’t a big deal. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss him.

The comm. call was already scheduled beforehand. Jim had been in full agreement that they should contact each other at least once a day in the evenings to say a few words and bid the other a good night. It made Spock feel slightly less self conscious about his own desire for contact. He wasn’t certain what was the human norm, but he knew that it was a negative thing to be perceived as needy. Were they on Vulcan (or New Vulcan, he mentally ammended), he would have a mental link to his bondmate, but with a human like Jim it seemed far too early for such a commitment. And so he had to make do with these video calls now. He was grateful that in this instance he and Jim seemed to be of an accord.

Spock watched the video screen, wanting to touch. It wasn’t the same as in person, but he could now see the appeal of this practice. He’d thought perhaps it would be a kinky surprise for Jim, but it seemed Jim wouldn’t be the only one getting something out of the experience. His eyes slid away from the viewscreen for just a moment as he checked the security of their connection. He’d set up extra safeties to ensure their call was fully encrypted, and it never hurt to be slightly paranoid about such things as their privacy.

His gaze slid back to Jim. Jim was panting by now, his soft sighs had deepened. His skin had a slight flush to it and his eyes had slid nearly shut as he looked back to Spock with a hooded gaze. He was beautiful this way, so pliant and relaxed. Spock felt a certain possessiveness over such expressions in Jim. He knew intellectually that Jim had been with many others before him, but his Vulcan instinct was to want his mate with him alone. Well, now he had his Jim, and he would hopefully be the last person ever to be privileged enough to see such an expression.

Of course, Jim’s arousal wasn’t the only appeal either. It was how at ease he was at such moments that appealed. Normally, Jim was a vibrant man, full of energy and vitality. He jumped from one project to the next, one location to another. He was a difficult man to pin down. Seeing him at peace was as much of a privilege as seeing him in lust.

“Now take one finger and lubricate it. I want you to finger your anus, externally. Do not penetrate yourself as of yet.” Spock instructed.

Jim teased the entrance to his ass and felt his toes curl. He was ready to penetrate himself, could feel that itch inside that wanted more. Which undoubtedly was why Spock had told him to wait. And so he continued to stroke himself with one hand, while the other simply rubbed and teased at his entrance.

“Let go of your cock.” Spock told him, and Jim widened his eyes pleadingly at that. “Use your free hand to play with your nipples.”

At this, Jim hesitated awkwardly. Playing with his nipples was not something he typically did. Spock had played with them from time to time, and they’d been sensitive. He knew that good feelings could come from that. But it wasn’t something he’d ever incorporated into his own masturbation, and touching them now, on camera, felt weird. Like he was put on the spot, and wasn’t sure exactly what to do with himself. He flushed in embarrassment, but it didn’t deter him.

First, Jim touched himself hesitantly, just the barest brush of his fingers to those nubs. He diverted his focus to the finger in his ass instead, lest he over think things, and that helped. He pinched one of his nipples, imagining it was Spock. His eyes almost slid shut, but he couldn’t allow himself to look away from the perfect image of Spock before him. Dressed provocatively as he was, and refusing to look away.

“I know for a fact that you enjoy having them pinched harder than that.” Spock chided. “If you pinch harder, you may insert one finger into your rectum.”

Jim shuddered. It drove him crazy when Spock talked dirty like that, especially since he was so clinical about it. He wanted that finger, and if he were honest he wanted to pinch his nipples a bit harder too. He pinched. He pressed. And then Jim gave a small, relieved sigh as his cock pulsed, flexing in the air in need of attention.

Spock watched Jim for the subtle signs of where he was at in his pleasure. The look in his eyes, the tension held in his body. The tenor of his sighs. It would be far preferable if he could touch Jim instead, use his telepathy as his primary sense to guide him in this. But he’d been observing Jim for months, cataloguing every subtle expression. When he was sure Jim was getting a bit desperate, he instructed, “Add a second finger.” He stared with unblinking intensity as Jim immediately complied.

Jim was moaning steadily now as he jammed his fingers in and out of his hole, stretching himself. He wanted something more, but he’d searched his bag and knew there were no toys. Even Spock’s fingers would be a welcome change from his own. The angle was always all wrong, and he struggled to brush his prostate as his wrist cramped, fingers flexing with determination. Jim pinched one of his nipples hard just to take the edge off his growing need to come. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to until Spock said so.

“Do you think you can fit three fingers for me, _t’hy’la_?” Spock asked silkily.

Jim huffed a laugh. “They’ll fit, but I might not last long after that.” he warned.

“Three fingers.” Spock said. “You can take it, just for a few minutes. Hold off just a few minutes.” he encouraged, and watched with rapt attention as Jim stretched himself with his own hand. Spock never grew tired of the image it presented, and he could almost feel a phantom sensation on his own hand as he recalled how silky and warm Jim’s anal walls felt.

“Spock --” Jim tried to warn, his voice quavering. Spock could just make out through the video stream the small tremors in Jim’s thighs that always foretold his climax.

“You may stroke yourself now, Jim.” Spock told him. “Come for me.”

Jim didn’t have to be told twice. His hand was a blur on his cock as his other hand pressed his fingers in as deeply as he could, straining for that special place that would tip him over the edge. He watched Spock watching him with his unwavering gaze, and that was what finally did it for him. He came wetly over his fist, thick gobs mixing with the lube as he milked himself dry, and finally slowed to a halt. Jim caught his breath and waited for his heart to slow, and he was grateful that Spock, at least, didn’t encourage him to keep going. He wasn’t sure he could take any more.

“I take it you are relaxed enough to sleep now?” Spock asked after a moment of recovery. He knew Jim always passed out soon after orgasm, when it was as late in the evening as it was now.

“Probably.” Jim admitted, grabbing some tissues from the night stand to wipe himself off. “Though it’ll be weird sleeping alone.”

“For me as well.” Spock admitted. “Although it will only be for three nights.” he reminded Jim.

“Call me tomorrow, same time?” Jim asked.

“Of course.” Spock agreed with a warm smile. “And tomorrow -- have the lube ready when I call.”

 


	41. We Need To Talk

The first signs were subtle, confusing, and irregular. Spock wanted to be with Jim more often, but he always wanted to be with Jim, so how could he have noticed? When they were together, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself for a moment, and was constantly unconsciously checking in on Jim’s mental state. But Jim had been excited about all of the extra touching, and it usually led to love-making, and then his mental check-ins made total sense. Or at least they did to him. And then there was the instance on the bridge when his voice had been a bit sharper than usual, the tension in his shoulders noticeable. But to be fair, a lot of things had been going wrong at the time, and so perhaps it was natural that he become irritated. It was that last one that really caught his attention later, when he’d sat in meditation reviewing the events of the day. Spock was almost never irritated. It was an anomaly.

Spock reviewed the events of the past several weeks and tried to make an objective assessment. He’d been feeling unsettled ever since he’d been separated from Jim for the weekend conference, but that made sense. It was their first real amount of time apart as a couple, and without a mental link, he couldn’t instinctively check in on his partner as he would if Jim were his bondmate.

Then of course Jim had returned to him, but he realized now that he’d been overly affectionate then too. He’d told himself it was only a subconscious reassurance that Jim was indeed in good health. And humans had a saying: “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”. Perhaps his separation from Jim had temporarily increased his amorous impulses. Perhaps. But that did not explain why weeks later his symptoms were getting worse.

Spock felt a growing sense of dread and pushed it out, though his mental controls felt unsteady. He focused inward and began to assess his physiological conditions as best he could. His temperature had risen slightly off his base average but it was still within an inconclusive margin. The unsteadiness he felt emotionally could be due to hormonal fluctuations, but without a lab test he couldn’t be certain if that’s what it was. He didn’t want that to be what it was. And then he felt the first small ache in his lower back, the location of his _chenesi_ , or Vulcan testes. The dread that had barely been held at bay overwhelmed him. He was going into _pon farr_.

Spock mentally reviewed everything he’d been told about the condition. If he was still fully cognizant, if his fever was still so low, then he was in the early stages. He still had days to prepare, perhaps even a week. Although, with his hybrid status, a tendril of doubt crept in as well. What if his physiology reacted different from the Vulcan norm? What if he only had a day to prepare? Or hours? What if his _pon farr_ was irregular? A disaster? At first, images of him in a hospital bed, dying a most undignified death assailed him. Then his mind conjured even worse: what might he do to Jim?

Jim. He’d have to talk to Jim about this. Jim knew about the _pon farr_ , but they hadn’t really talked about it since Jim had said he understood when they’d first gotten together. Spock knew that his counterpart had told Jim _something_ , but he didn’t know what, and he was afraid to ask. To talk about the subject at all. He, himself, barely knew what to expect. How could he possibly prepare a human for the event?

The physical practicalities were what Spock thought of first. How long would it last? How many times would he be driven to mate? Would he hurt Jim with his superior Vulcan strength, especially if he wasn’t in his right mind? Perhaps they could tie him down. Perhaps McCoy could drug him. Perhaps, if he absolutely had to fuck Jim, they could get some sort of special lubricant that would last long and soothe the chafing that would inevitably result from hours and days of intercourse. Would he even be in his right mind enough to be able to tell if Jim were hurt? Would he be able to stop?

It was this line of thinking that brought Spock up short. He felt his breath freeze in his chest. Because there was one way that a Vulcan usually knew the status of his mate, and that was through bonding. He would need to bond in order to get through _pon farr_. That was always a given, but it had seemed so far away, something to discuss in the distant future. At length. Repeatedly. Until they were comfortable with their relationship, and its trajectory, and they decided to mate together. Now there was a ticking time bomb inside of him, and he had to bond with Jim _now_.

How could Jim possibly do anything _other_ than agree to bond with him? The idea of it made him feel sick. It was coercion to the highest degree. This was not how he’d imagined this going. They should have talked. Planned. He should have made contingencies. Spock could feel his breath constricting in his chest and forced himself to breathe normally.

Only one question remained to him now, he decided. Should he first discuss his situation with Jim, or with the doctor? The idea of bringing McCoy into the matter made him cringe, but there was the possibility that the doctor could take some readings, could potentially give Spock a better idea of what he was dealing with, how much time he had. He knew that McCoy had been given a dossier on the subject from his elder counterpart, but they’d never discussed it except for McCoy letting him know he’d been made aware. How much information did that file contain? And could it do anything at all to predict Spock’s hybrid biology? And most importantly: would any of that information make this discussion any easier to have with Jim?

His decision had been made. Like a man walking to his execution, Spock made his way across the few metres that lay between his own quarters and Jim’s, knowing that Jim would be reading in bed as usual for this time of night.

Jim lifted his head when Spock entered, a slight smile on his face. “Hey.” he greeted warmly, still half distracted by the PADD in his lap. “Did you have a good meditation?”

“Negative.” Spock answered unsteadily, his throat dry. Something in his tone must have caught Jim’s attention, because Jim set the PADD aside, his brow creased with concern.

“What’s up?”

“Jim.” Spock began haltingly, trying to meet Jim’s eyes and not look away. “There is something that we must discuss.”

“Okay....” Jim drawled, obviously waiting for him to spill.

“Of late, I have felt unsettled.” Spock prevaricated. His hands came behind his back, one gripping the wrist of the other, and he began to pace. “Distracted at my station. My emotions have been erratic.”

“Spock, you’ve had like one _erratic_ emotion in your whole life and that was when you tried to choke me out on the bridge.” Jim said. “I’d hardly call your behaviour lately erratic. What’s this about? Stop beating around the bush.”

Spock nodded. Perhaps a direct approach would be best. “Do you recall our discussion at the start of our relationship?” he prompted.

Jim rolled his eyes in frustration. Spock could be damned opaque sometimes. But he did dedicate his considerable brain power to trying to figure out what Spock was on about. Then his eyes widened with sudden possibility. “Is this about _pon farr_?” he asked, and saw Spock twitch. “Oh. My. God.” he said with growing excitement. “It’s coming?!” he shrieked, grin growing across his face as he knelt up on the bed, scooting closer to where Spock hovered near the foot. “Is it here now? How much time do we have? Spock, this is amazing! What are you still doing in your clothes? Can you get an erection yet? Can I see it?”

“Jim.” Spock stopped him, closing his eyes as tension seized his entire frame. While Jim’s enthusiasm was on some level appreciated, it was misguided and inappropriate. This was a crisis, one that could endanger both of their lives. A crisis that was in the process of ruining everything. “There are important matters we must discuss. Plans we must make.”

“Of course.” Jim agreed immediately, sobering somewhat. “Whatever you need. Tell me what you need, Spock.”

Spock took a deep breath and steeled himself for the discussion to come. “On Vulcan --” he paused, corrected himself. “My people prepare for the coming challenge typically beginning at the age of seven. After completing the ritual of the _kahs-wan_ , a child will be mentally bound to his or her future mate.”

“Is this about the marriage or challenge thing?” Jim interrupted.

Spock narrowed his eyes. “Exactly how much did my elder counterpart tell you?” he demanded.

Jim waved his hand dismissively, as he had at the start of their relationship. “Not much.” he said quickly. “He was bonded to some Vulcan girl and it messed things up with...” Jim’s eyes went wide. “No. No way. Are you bonded to some Vulcan girl?” he asked a little hysterically. Jim was already making mental calculations for how long it would take to get the _Enterprise to_ New Vulcan. And also ten ways to kick Spock’s ass if he found out he’d been the mistress (mister?) the whole time.

“Negative.” Spock said stubbornly. “Our bond was dissolved when I decided not to attend the Vulcan Science Academy. We were... determined to choose different paths.”

“Oh.” Jim said simply. Then waited. But Spock wasn’t speaking, wasn’t explaining a thing. “So...?” he prompted, reaching out to pull at Spock’s night shirt and tug him toward the bed, not stopping until Spock relented and sat himself down. Jim didn’t like him hovering around like he was going to have a nervous breakdown.

“To survive the _pon farr_ ,” Spock said softly, “A mate is required.”

Jim waited in silence for Spock to continue, and then it dawned on him what Spock was really saying. He’d just taken it for granted that he would be Spock’s mate. In his mind, it was mostly synonymous with boyfriend, most of the time. Spock had even occasionally referred to Jim as his mate. But he realized now Spock meant _bondmate_. As in telepathically tied together in a serious way. “Are you-- are you proposing to me?” he asked.

“A marriage ceremony differs slightly from a bonding ceremony.” Spock hedged.

“Okay. So you’re like... telepathically proposing to me.” Jim amended with a smile.

“You need not --” Spock began to explain.

“Of course I need to.” Jim said with a fond sigh. “I want to. Unless you don’t...?”

“ _T’hy’la_.” Spock breathed, pressing his forehead against Jim’s. It felt better to touch. Better physically, mentally, emotionally. He fought the urge to just get naked right now and wrap himself around Jim like a blanket. They still had important plans to discuss. “It is everything I could want.”

“Well, good.” Jim said with satisfaction, and a note of finality. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll form the bond, and get you whatever you need, and then we’ll have the best sex we’ve had to date.” he added with a grin. “Also, you never mentioned whether you can get an erection yet.” he said with a glint in his eyes, hand creeping up Spock’s thigh.

“Jim!” Spock chided him in exasperation, though he could not help the smile that threatened to burst out, teasing the corners of his mouth. _Pon farr_ was coming, but perhaps it was not entirely a crisis.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've covered all the kinks that make sense for this story, though by no means did I cover all the kinks that someone might have. I probably missed a few that would make sense here, and I definitely skipped some that just didn't feel right for this Jim and this Spock. All that said, I have done what I set out to do, which was cover a wide variety of ways their relationship could still work even with Spock's impotence.
> 
> I intend to cover the pon farr next. A lot of people have asked to see it, and it does seem like a good closure for the story, as well as being interesting after they've done so many other things. After the pon farr, I want to do a bit more afterward, and then that'll be it for this one. We're in the home stretch!
> 
> Also thanks to everyone who has been leaving such encouraging comments for such a long time. This community is by far the best. <3


	42. Preparations

Spock tried not to squirm from his position on the biobed as McCoy hummed and hawed over his tricorder. He felt like a specimen, and with his mental controls weakening it was even more difficult than usual to fight off his discomfort around doctors.

“Based on these readings and from what information I have on your counterpart, I’d say you have the better part of a week until you’re fully into it. Maybe even a bit more. Of course, there’s plenty for you two to get in place before then.” he mused.

“Bones.” Jim complained with an eye roll. “I’m perfectly capable of tying up some loose ends. Scotty’ll take command for a week. Spock’s already drafted the paperwork to Starfleet Command to ask for leave. I’ll do the same. Really, it couldn’t have come at a better time. We’re not really doing anything important right now. I’ll need you to put your stamp of approval on the leave requests though, as CMO....”

“We’ll get to that.” Bones agreed. “But first I want to know when the two of you intend to establish this mental bond.”

“That is hardly relevant to the status of my hormone fluctuations.” Spock answered sharply. He’d wanted a simple medical assessment, not a lecture. McCoy was not a Mind Healer and he wasn’t family. He had nothing to do with mind links whatsoever.

“It’s my business if it affects the health and safety of my crew.” McCoy answered stubbornly. “You --” he jabbed a finger at Spock, “aren’t going to survive your _pon farr_ without one. I’ve been doing my reading.” He waggled around a PADD for emphasis. “The sooner you get this thing established, the better. Now my understanding is that normally an outside party would oversee the event but as we’re a bit short on Vulcans, I’m assuming you can handle it yourself.”

Spock nodded sharply. “I will handle the matter privately. It should not pose a problem.”

“Good.” McCoy rounded on Jim. “Normally I’d try to talk you out of this type of insanity but since you’re already set to do it and you’re already up to your eyeballs in this mess, I’d rather tell you to get it done and over with as soon as you can for both your sakes. There’s no telling how a psi-null will accept this sort of mental hoodoo, and Starfleet will require me to run a battery of psychological tests on you afterwards anyway to make sure your command isn’t compromised.”

“Now just wait a minute!” Jim complained. “What the hell century is this? We’re getting Vulcan-married. I’m not getting some sort of alien mind wipe.”

“And you’ll prove as much when you take the tests. You do this thing ahead of time and you’ll have less trouble getting your leave request approved. You do it last minute....” he shrugged. “At any rate, you’ll both need to prove your competency again before taking command of anything, once this ordeal is over.”

“Noted.” Spock said tightly. He’d be contacting his father about that little detail. If Starfleet intended to continue with its bigotry toward alien cultures, especially Vulcan, and especially after the tragedy, he was going to quietly kick up a fuss through back channels.

“Now it says here,” McCoy gestured at his PADD, “that this thing can last anywhere from two days to a full week, and can be intense or mild. Even your counterpart said it varied wildly throughout his life. So. That means we’ve got to take precautions. How much lube do you two have stored up? What kind?”

“Oh. My. God.” Jim said, blushing and hiding his face. “ _Bones_. Seriously. Could we not discuss my lube supply?”

“Then let’s talk about how and when and what you’re going to eat.” McCoy countered. “You might not get a chance to leave your room for a week, and Spock won’t be too happy if we send someone in. Ration bars are your best bet, and bottled water.”

“Lube, rations bars, and bottled water by the case. Sounds like a honeymoon to me!” Jim enthused, kind of wanting to end the conversation.

“I’m going to pack you a medical kit. I know you had to pass basic first aid for your field training, but I want your assurance you know how to use a dermal regenerator on your anus if need be.”

“Spock is _not_ going to damage my anus, Bones. Seriously!” Jim threw his hands up.

“You’d better consider bathroom breaks as well.” Bones went on lecturing. “Vulcan men stop eating and drinking a few days prior to _pon farr_ , and survive without food or drink for the duration. They have no need to use the bathroom. Vulcan women pick up on their bondmate’s hormonal shift and enter their own sympathetic cycle with the same result. You’re human. That means Spock might not understand why you want to leave his little love nest to use the restroom.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Jim asked with a sigh. Spock looked absolutely mortified and refused to meet either of their eyes. “Piss the bed?”

“You might anyway. I’m making a note to send you a rubber sheet. Even if you don’t end up wetting it, the amount of ejaculate alone could ruin the mattress otherwise.”

“Wait, really?” Jim asked, his eyes darting to Spock with sudden interest. Spock, if anything, only looked more uncomfortable.

“As for the rest -- I’d say keep a bucket handy, just in case.”

“Spock is not going to make me shit in a bucket.”

“You might be surprised....” McCoy tried to warn.

“Spock.” Jim interrupted. “You’re _not_ going to make me shit in a bucket, right?”

“I have not yet experienced a _pon farr_.” Spock pointed out with an uncomfortable shrug. “My understanding is that I will not be fully cognizant of my actions. The fact that you are human does have the potential to confuse certain aspects of the mating process.”

“Your mom was human.” Jim pointed out, then winced. Bringing up his partner’s dead mother: not cool. But it _was_ relevant.

McCoy interrupted. “And I’m sorry to say so, but we don’t know whether Sarek had her defecating in a bucket every few years. And I, for one, do not intend to ask.”

On that, they could all agree, and Jim and Spock nodded. There was no way anyone was going to ask anything of Sarek at all. The less they knew about how Spock’s parents had sex, the better. In fact, all three of them were contemplating mind bleach at the very idea of it.

“What about Old Spock?” Jim asked, gesturing at the PADD in Bones’ hand. “Didn’t he give any indications whether Spock and I would need a bucket?”

“All that’s here is medical information.” McCoy said simply. “It doesn’t give much away about his personal life at all. I can tell you hormone levels, body temperature, all sorts of things like that. As well as a detailed medical description of exactly what goes on in the Vulcan body during the time of mating. But as for the rest of it? You two will have to figure that out on your own.”

Jim sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He wasn’t really as worried as Spock seemed to be about the whole affair, but he had hoped that their visit with Bones would be a little more enlightening. He did want to know what to expect. He wasn’t _completely_ foolhardy. But a bucket and a box of granola bars, and a battery of tests and paperwork for Starfleet hardly seemed like the way he wanted to spend his time preparing for this magical time with Spock.

Well, they had a week yet. He’d bang out the necessities as quickly as possible, and then get down to the _real_ preparations. Which meant candles, and romantic dinners, and massages for Spock’s sore back. And hopefully they could get to that mind link soon as well. Maybe even that night, if he could convince Spock. Then they’d have a week to get used to it, and maybe it would even help to put Spock at ease. He hoped so.

 

~~~

 

“What will it feel like?” Jim asked. It was late in the evening, and they were in their pyjamas on the bed. Jim had been a whirlwind of activity that day once he’d gotten off shift, making preparations for the oncoming _pon farr_. It didn’t matter to him that they had time to wait. His bedroom was now a mess of water, pre-packaged food, and lube. He’d taken most of Bones’ medical supply and topped it off with all of their personal stores to use first.

But the thing he’d been most anticipating was the mental bond, which Spock had finally admitted they should take care of soon. He’d taken an hour to meditate alone in his quarters, and had returned, ready to begin.

“I cannot say what it might feel like between us, or from your perspective as a human.” Spock said quietly. “Though based upon my prior experience with T’Pring, I can tell you that it is intimate, and very similar to one of our deeper melds.”

“Except ongoing.” Jim clarified. That was the most mystifying aspect of the bond to him. Melds were disorienting but came to an end. What would it feel like to have that experience all of the time? How would he get anything done? And yet Spock’s mother had somehow managed. It clearly wasn’t an experience only limited to Vulcans.

“In a sense. We will always both be there to each other, but it should not feel intrusive. If it is a distraction at first, there are exercises I can teach you to better sequester your mind.”

“But what about bonding itself?” Jim pressed, trying to wrap his head around it. “The actual process, I mean.”

“It would be easier for me to simply show you.” Spock pointed out with a fond smile.

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right.” Jim admitted, feeling slightly abashed. “Go ahead.” he said, tilting his chin up slightly to signify his readiness -- his face, his temples, available for Spock to touch, to join.

“There is no need to be nervous, _t’hy’la_.” Spock assured him, though a  frisson of anticipation assailed him as well. This was a momentous occasion.

In a way, it was also the simplest of things. His fingers found Jim’s meld points automatically. By now, he had done it so many times, he could do it with his eyes closed if need be, though he much preferred the sight of Jim before him. When he fell into Jim’s consciousness, it was like coming home, and they fit together so easily and so well. Every corner of their mind was suffused with a feeling of well-being and a pervasive sense of the other.

With just a touch of the surface of Jim’s skin, Spock could sense the most superficial emotions. A shallow meld came next, the most cursory sharing of minds. A sense of one another. Intentional sharing of thoughts. If he delved deeper, there was more of a Jim-ness about it, a bone-deep sense of who Jim was as a man. He could sense every cell in his body, take his pick of memories, all open to him for the viewing. Spock pressed onward, forward, downward, deeper. It was difficult to describe to a non-telepath, but there was just a sense of more Jim as he went, and for Jim the reverse -- a sense of Spock. Until at a fundamental level, there was only Jim-Spock and Spock-Jim. Oneness.

If he weren’t so lost in his mate, he might have found it disturbing, this total loss of self. But there wasn’t room for uncertainty in here, only existence. And Spock knew that this was how the permanent link would form. Only by delving as deeply into one another as was possible. As a child, it had been a somewhat dizzying experience orchestrated by an outside party. But now he knew exactly what to look for, and it seemed almost easy to reach out for it, to take it.

It was finished, and Spock pulled back from Jim, and into himself. Slowly but surely, they resumed a sense of _me_ and _you,_ rather than an all encompassing _us_. Jim blinked at Spock as the world around him winked back into being. It had been just like one of their deeper melds, wherein he’d lose a sense of time and space. But the room was still brightly lit and filled with boxes of ration bars, the bed still solid beneath him. And there in a distant corner of his mind was that tickling sense of Spock that came with just the shallowest of melds. It was like gossamer thread, barely there and difficult to grasp.

“Whoa.” he said, still trying to get a sense of the seismic shift. Spock wasn’t touching him any longer, and so he knew that what he felt was the promised bond. “That’s....” He shook his head, at a loss for words to describe it. Spock merely smiled, because he knew. Not only could he also sense it within himself, but he _knew_ with certainty exactly what Jim felt about the bond. And Spock, Jim realized, hadn’t smiled in response at all. That, too, had come from somewhere within.

Jim smiled, eyes sparkling. “Your back is still hurting.” he observed, and narrowed his eyes in focus. “And... you want us to shower and go to bed.” This was _neat_. He was literally a mind-reader. He made no promises to only use these powers for good.

“Hardly a difficult assumption to make.” Spock said levelly. “It is well past our usually scheduled rest period.”

“I totally read your mind.” Jim admonished him, laughing. “Don’t even deny it. I can tell you’re faking right now.”

“Is that so?” Spock asked flatly, leading Jim toward the bathroom and a hot shower.

“Oh my god. Don’t even try it. I can feel you laughing at me.”

 


	43. Pampering

“Wake up, starshine.” Jim murmured to Spock. The alarm had chimed and the lights in his quarters were automatically increasing in strength as they did every morning they had a shift together. It was a complete reversal of their usual morning demeanours. The fact that Jim was capable of speech and Spock was still lying in the bed was telling.

Jim could sense Spock’s grogginess through their new bond. He could sense a small flicker of not wanting to leave the bed and a less than perfect mental discipline. A sore back. The first stirrings of hunger for breakfast. Jim smiled. It was pretty neat having such access to Spock’s mental state, though the Vulcan had explained to him that were his mental controls at their best, he would be blocking the majority of it out of habit and convention. Well, that was fine. Jim would enjoy it while he could.

Right now, that meant using this new insights to pamper Spock to within an inch of his life before the _pon farr_. Jim pressed a kiss to Spock’s temple and rolled out of bed. He grabbed his own clothes quickly, and then started pulling together a uniform for Spock. By now, most of his clothes had migrated to Jim’s rooms as well, to save time. But Jim took extra care this morning to add thermal underwear to Spock’s pile. He knew the Vulcan rarely indulged, stating that they technically weren’t part of the official uniform. But Jim also knew Spock was often a little chilly, and with the start of his fever he would be uncomfortable all day without it.

“Come on, sleepy-head.” Jim taunted as Spock glared half-heartedly at him and rolled out of the bed. Spock knew he was being ridiculous and undisciplined, and found it maddening, but he couldn’t seem to pull together more control. So this was the start of it. The complete collapse of a lifetime of training. He felt the first flickers of dread at the thought of appearing before the crew like this.

“Hey, no brooding.” Jim interrupted his thoughts, and Spock watched his naked mate walking toward the shower. “Come on!” Jim called behind himself. “Shower time!”

Spock rose with a little less reluctance, following the siren call of a naked mate in the shower. Hot water and plenty of touching sounded perfect.

The water wasn’t as hot as he would have liked it, but Spock knew that they were already at a compromise, with the heat turned as high as Jim could tolerate it. The lights, as always, were brighter, more white than his Vulcan eyes preferred. Normally he tuned it out, but today every little thing seemed to get under his skin. He closed his eyes to the glare and let the hot stream beat on his sore back. He flinched with surprise as Jim started washing him, then relaxed into the welcome touch. It wasn’t their usual routine, but it was exactly what he needed.

When Jim finished with Spock, he set to washing himself quickly, but Spock stopped him with a gentle hand to his wrist. “Let me.” Spock said warmly. Jim searched Spock for a moment, straining to sense what Spock as feeling through the confusing new bond, but in the end Spock’s eyes were enough to convince him. It wasn’t out of some misplaced sense of reciprocity that Spock offered. He simply wanted to touch, so Jim let him.

When Spock moved to stroke Jim off, that _was_ a part of their usual routine, but Jim was a bit surprised Spock was bothering. He wanted to say Spock didn’t need to if he was feeling so out of sorts. After all, in just a week they’d be having more sex than Jim could dream of. But of course, he didn’t say any of that. Because he liked it, he wanted it, and Spock seemed to want it too.

Spock felt the first strange stirrings of... _something_ , under his skin, as he worked his hand over Jim. Little tingles that worked through his veins. An increase in heat. A foreign heaviness in his groin. He glanced down and realized his cock was struggling to evert for the first time in his life. It wasn’t anything he would think Jim could notice, so subtle was it. But there was definitely an increase in blood flow, a thickening and swelling of the region. He was so fascinated by the experience that he nearly lost track of Jim until Jim’s orgasm crashed through him, stealing Spock’s entire focus.

Once out of the shower, Jim took his time drying Spock. He ghosted his fingers over Spock’s back and wished he had time to offer a massage. Perhaps after shift. When they dressed, Spock made no comment about the thermals Jim had laid out, but simply put them on. He was too uncomfortable to argue against the logic of warmth. And then they were leaving as usual. Spock walked behind Jim, straight-backed and proper, with none of the crew any wiser as to how he actually felt.

 

~~~

 

Jim started making Spock a tray up at breakfast, assembling many of the Vulcan’s favourite foods. He could feel Spock was ravenous. With a week left until _pon farr_ , his body was urging him to consume extra calories, in preparation for the coming fast. Spock was happy enough to let Jim get his breakfast for him. After all, he was sore and exhausted before the day had even begun, but still stubbornly refusing to take extra time off or call attention to his affliction. He was happy to let Jim care for him -- until he saw the massive tray Jim was assembling, and felt an overwhelming wave of embarrassment suffuse him.

Jim looked up and glanced toward Spock. He was mostly oblivious to the new bond unless he purposely concentrated on it, but even he could feel that sudden spike in emotion. He glanced from Spock to the over-laden tray. He hadn’t begun to assemble his own yet, so he threw an egg sandwich onto the pile and then grabbed a second tray, holding only a modest bowl of porridge. When he sat down next to Spock, he gave him the tray with porridge. People were used to seeing Jim eat like a pig anyway, so he set to his sandwich and pretended to claim ownership of the rest. The relief that radiated off of Spock was palpable.

Jim picked at the fruit he’d gotten for Spock, and pushed some things around on the tray. But mostly for the rest of breakfast, every time Spock would finish one dish, Jim would subtly swap it out for another. And every time, Spock would self-consciously cast his glance around the cafeteria, as if anyone were actually paying any attention his eating habits. And every time, Jim would have to consciously refrain from rolling his eyes. But at least Spock was well fed by the end of it, and Jim made a mental note to take at least one of their meals a day in their quarters, to avoid all of this.

 

~~~

 

Spock bent over his station, looking through a viewer and trying to appear busy. In reality, his emotions were chaos. First he would think of something like lunch, wherein Jim had been the perfect doting mate, and he’d feel a wave of affection so strong it was everything he could do not to go cuddle Jim right that moment. Then perhaps his back would twinge again, which was uncomfortable enough to be a distraction. Spock stood and tried to find a more comfortable position without calling any attention to himself. He wandered over to Jim’s chair for a time, engaging in pointless banter while he hovered near his mate, wanting to touch but refraining.

His fingers were cold on the bridge. He was always a bit chilly, but not uncomfortable. Except with the fever, comfort was all but impossible for him, and his thermals could do nothing for his hands, which he often kept clasped behind him for warmth. The physical discomfort was in a way the most intrusive. Physical discomfort he could tolerate, of course, but it continually made itself known to him, and that prompted him to think about the _reason_ for his discomfort. The oncoming _pon farr._ And then Spock found it entirely impossible to concentrate for long stretches of time, as he fought back a rising tide of panic about every single thing that could potentially go wrong.

Jim was perfect for that, too. When he noticed Spock’s emotions seeping over the bond and up against his own thoughts, he knew the situation was getting out of control. Then it was time for more pointless chit-chat and teasing banter. Later, he required Spock in a meeting room. Then a mid-morning stroll to discuss... whatever. They meandered down to sickbay where Bones took another subtle reading and sent them on their way. Jim conveniently took a detour to the empty cafeteria and convinced Spock it was never too early for granola bars.

“Just a bit over an hour until lunch.” Jim said in the lift on the way back to the bridge. “Think you can make it?”

“Captain. I am perfectly capable of performing my duties.” Spock answered stiffly.

Jim rolled his eyes. “Spock. You’ve never not been capable of performing your duties in your life. This isn’t the captain offering criticism, this is your bondmate asking if you’re okay.”

Spock had the decency to look at least a little contrite. “I shall be... fine.” he answered enigmatically. Jim decided he’d just have to take him at his word.

“Okay.” he nodded. “But we’re having lunch in my quarters, and you’ll spend the afternoon dicking around in the labs instead of on the bridge. At least there you can hide in a cubby hole somewhere with no one to bother you.”

“Yes, Captain.” Spock answered formally, though through the bond Jim could sense gratitude, and relief.

 

~~~

 

By the time Spock returned to his quarters that evening, he was exhausted. Every fibre of his being was sore. The pain and stiffness in his lower back was intolerable. He dragged himself into Jim’s rooms, and trudged with a slow shuffle toward the bedroom, finally allowing him the luxury of slumping with less than perfect posture. Jim was back already by a few minutes, waiting anxiously for Spock to return from the labs. When he saw Spock pathetically making toward the bed, he gently guided him there and helped him down, kneeling to work off his boots first and then setting to the rest of his uniform.

“Massage first, I think.” Jim said aloud. “We’ll eat some time after that. I’ll have a yeoman bring something, and don’t you argue with me about yeomen today.” he said sternly.

Spock was too exhausted to care about Jim’s use of yeomen at the moment, and was simply grateful to be catered to a bit. He fell bonelessly onto the bed once Jim had stripped him, and laid on his front as Jim got out the massage oil.

Jim took off his own remaining clothes, so as to not get them oily and because he enjoyed the skin to skin contact, and then straddled Spock’s hips comfortably. He began at Spock’s shoulders as usual, which were a mass of tension, more so than he’d ever noticed in Spock before. His heart ached a bit at that. Poor Spock; he was really having a hard time with this. He worked his way down Spock’s spine as Spock slowly unwound, giving soft grunts as Jim worked. But Jim’s real attention was on Spock’s _chenesi_ , or the Vulcan equivalent of testicles. Two small raised mounds on either side of the base of the spine, they were normally all but invisible to Jim, though Spock had pointed them out before. Now they were swollen and foreign looking on Spock’s body.

When Jim finally reached them, he ghosted his fingers over them hesitantly as Spock gave a slight hiss. “Too much?” Jim asked anxiously. “You’ll have to tell me how to treat them. I’m flying blind here, Spock.”

“Press them firmly.” Spock mumbled into the mattress.

Jim ghosted his fingertips over them again, feeling nervous about doing anything _firmly_ to what were essentially testicles. He pressed down just a bit and Spock groaned, then he quickly whisked his hands away as if burned. He was going to damage Spock, and he just knew it. He should have asked Bones about this. Surely it was in the medical files Old Spock had sent.

“Jim.” Spock sighed, but his sigh was rough and tinged with emotion and went straight to Jim’s dick. “You can press harder. You won’t damage them. In the days leading up to my Time, the _chenesi_ will become engorged with semen, in order that I should be able to successfully impregnate my mate. Or at least as far as evolution is concerned.” he explained. “This requires that the usually toughened skin stretch considerably. The _pon farr_ itself is a rough experience. You cannot compare the _chenesi_ to your own human counterparts, Jim. Believe me. You are unlikely to damage me.”

“Okay.” Jim said as confidently as he could, still feeling a bit uncertain. But he pressed his thumbs into the raised mounds again, and listened to Spock groan as he went even more boneless into the mattress. Those groans he realized were not groans of pain. In fact, the more Jim worked on the swollen knots of tension, the more he heard a new note to Spock’s voice, one he’d never heard from the Vulcan before. The closest he had come was with Spock’s fingers in his mouth, or during a meld. But there was no mistaking it now. That was the sound of _arousal_.

“You like that?” Jim asked huskily, feeling his own cock firm in reaction.

“ _Jim._ ” Spock moaned, at a loss for words. To date, this emotion, this physiological response, was only something he’d experienced vicariously through Jim, during a meld. Arousal was new and overwhelming and delicious. It was bright fire, coursing through his veins, and for a worrying moment Spock wondered if the _pon farr_ had come now, already. But no, this wasn’t madness. This was simply what it meant to be turned on. It was incredible.

Spock widened his legs without even thinking about it, and that was new too. He realized with a start that his penis was once again thickening, lengthening, and beginning to evert. He had to shift to make room for it, a heavy weight between his legs. His body was almost foreign to him, but not in a bad way. It was as if he’d been missing something his whole life until now, and finally it had slotted right into place. Half erect, he shifted his hips and thrust his cock against the sheets below.

Jim noticed the motion, and his brain seized up for a second. It was a motion he knew intimately, because he’d done it himself hundreds of times. “Holy hell. Are you _hard_?” he asked wonderingly.

“Not entirely.” Spock admitted with a bit of a blush. “But I am partially erect.”

Jim stopped his ministrations on the _chenesi_ immediately and began nudging at Spock’s side. “Come on, let me see.” he urged excitedly. “Turn over.”

Spock continued to blush furiously, almost embarrassed at having had such a reaction. He was so unaccustomed to even the idea of it, that he wasn’t certain how to feel. But of course Jim would want to see him this way, and he likewise wanted Jim to see him. He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, watching Jim get his first look at him in this way.

“God.” Jim breathed. “You’re _gorgeous_. Perfect.” He reached out and grasped Spock’s lengthening cock. It wasn’t even fully erect yet, and already it was massive. Spock hissed with pleasure and closed his eyes at the intimate touch. It was overpowering, even though Jim was gentle and slow.

“Is it too early in your cycle to orgasm?” Jim asked curiously, feeling the flesh struggle to erect completely in his grasp as he slowly stroked.

“I do not know.” Spock answered breathlessly.

“Do you... do you want me to stroke you off?” Jim asked, hardly daring to believe this was _real_. “How do you want your first time? What do you want to try?”

“What you’re doing --” Spock let out a sharp gasp, “is more than sufficient. Continue.”

“You got it.” Jim answered with a grin. It was only a hand job. Hardly anything, compared to what all Jim could do for him, what all he wanted to do for him, to him. But it was what Spock wanted, and by the look and sound of it, it was “more than sufficient”, as Spock had said. Jim would do _anything_ to put that look of pure sex and pleasure on Spock’s face again. He was mesmerized as he stroked him off, using his best technique, his best everything. And it was perfect. There was more Jim would do later. But for this first time, this was exactly what was needed.

The sounds coming out of Spock’s mouth were positively sinful, and the green blush dusting his cheeks was something that would never cease to enchant Jim. It was a struggle at first, as Spock’s toes curled and dug into the sheets, his body straining toward a goal he’d never before reached. He _wanted_ , they both wanted, but Jim had his doubts about whether an orgasm would be possible. Maybe it was too early. Maybe this wasn’t entirely what Spock needed to fall over that edge. But Jim sure as hell wasn’t going to stop and waste this opportunity. Not unless and until Spock told him differently.

The bond flared brightly in Jim’s mind and that was the only warning he had before Spock’s cock pulsed in his hand, weakly spilling thin ejaculate over his fist as Spock groaned. There would be much more during _pon farr_ , Jim knew. He recalled Bones’ warning that it would be enough ejaculate to ruin the bed. But this was the early stages, and Spock had only just built up enough stores to actually come. Jim brought the fluid to his mouth and tasted while Spock looked on, arousal flaring brightly again, seconds after orgasm. He’d never imagined the vision of his mate _tasting him_ could be so powerful.

Jim grinned at Spock’s reaction and continued to lick it off his hand. There wasn’t much. It was bitter and salty, and not much different than any other cum he’d had the chance to sample in his lifetime. But it was Spock’s, and that was incredible.

“I take it you liked it?” Jim asked cheekily.

“I--” Spock shook his head wonderingly, at a total loss for words. “Yes. Jim, yes.” he answered breathlessly, and pulled Jim down suddenly. Even weak from orgasm and from the pains of the oncoming _pon farr_ , Spock’s strength was formidable, and Jim went down easily. Spock surged in to kiss Jim deeply, his own hand reaching down to Jim’s erect cock between them, working to quickly bring him off. Jim had almost forgotten himself in his distraction over Spock, but now he realized he was close and it didn’t take long for him to spill as well.

They laid for a moment, basking in the afterglow and tangled up in one another. “We should probably shower.” Jim murmured against Spock’s shoulder.

“Soon.” Spock agreed, unwilling to move for just another moment.

“And then I’m totally texting a yeoman to bring us like four suppers.”

Spock huffed as if offended, but agreed. “Acceptable.”

“If this is even a hint at what _pon farr_ is going to be like,” Jim told him, “it’s going to be awesome.”

 


	44. Early Honeymoon

Spock let out a weak groan as the alarm went off and the lights began to brighten. He pulled a pillow over his head and refused to get out of the bed.

Jim could sense Spock’s sore back, and his irritation, and his queasy hunger, and his general inability to deal with the world around him. “Hey.” Jim said, propping himself up and talking to the pillow on Spock’s head. “Let’s call in today. You know Bones will sign off on it. Or at least you should call in. I could come to check on you at lunch.”

The Spock-shaped lump burrowed a fraction lower under the blankets and pillows, but refused to respond. Jim could sense a shifting morass of emotions when he really concentrated, but he wasn’t Vulcan and didn’t have enough experience with their bond to make any sense of it.

“Okay. I’m going to text Bones and get our replacements up on the bridge. Then I’m going to work on your back again, and we’ll take a hot shower and send a yeoman for breakfast. You don’t even have to get dressed today. You can wear your fuzzy robe.”

Spock mumbled under the pillow. “I am not an invalid. I should attend to my duties.”

“I’m already texting Bones.” Jim responded, communicator in hand. “And you love that fuzzy robe. Don’t’ deny it.”

“I require pancakes.” Spock mumbled, still under the pillow. If Jim was going to send a yeoman for their food again, he wanted to request something good before it was too late.

Jim smirked in amusement. Pancakes, huh? Quite the indulgence for the Vulcan who almost never ventured further than some sort of porridge or fruit for breakfast. He made sure to order a whole array of breakfast foods. No doubt the yeoman would attribute it all to him anyway, and then Spock could take his pick in the privacy of their rooms.

“Do you want to sleep more?” Jim asked the pillow.

“Negative.” Spock mumbled, though he made no attempt to move from his position. Now that he was awake, he was awake, but that did not mean he’d gathered the necessary activation energy to actually start his day. He didn’t even have the resources to properly argue Jim against them both taking the day off. They would already lose enough time during the _pon farr_ , he knew. He did not strictly require time off now. He was being illogical. Weak. He let out an audible sigh, and lamented that lack of control as well.

Jim rolled on top of Spock, sleepily straddling his hips, Spock’s legs still trapped and tangled in the blankets and his head still buried. He dug his thumbs into Spock’s _chenesi_ , which looked angry and felt hard as rocks. Spock whined painfully, but Jim could also sense from him the tremendous relief as he worked. And just like the night before, the growing arousal, sharper now and more intense than it had been.

Jim pressed a kiss to the back of Spock’s shoulders, then tried to shove his own head under the pillow with Spock. “Is it nice under here?” he teased, and Spock cracked open an eye to look at him.

“Jim.” Spock mumbled into the mattress.

“Spock.” Jim returned, waiting for Spock to speak his mind.

“I want....” he trailed off.

“I know.” Jim answered with a smile, digging his fingers in again just perfectly. He delighted in the groan Spock gave in return. “What is it you want this time?” Jim asked, his own cock perking up with interest.

“I want....” Spock trailed off again, lost in the sensations Jim was wringing out of him. They almost overshadowed his earlier misery entirely. He was out of his depth. There were so many things they hadn’t tried yet. So many things he’d not thought he’d have the chance to do. He’d considered creative solutions to the long stretches of time between _pon farrs_ of course. And he’d assumed that during his Time he would take Jim, in the traditional way, as the penetrating partner. But he hadn’t accounted for these few days beforehand. He hadn’t imagined the arousal and limitless possibilities that would lie before them in the time just prior to mating.

“I would like you to take me.” he said finally, nudging the pillow out of the way to get some much needed air. The room felt hotter the more aroused he became, and he felt his hard cock heavy between his legs again. But it could wait. Now that he could finally experience what it was Jim felt so regularly, he wanted to know in full. What would it feel like to be penetrated? To be taken in that way? Jim’s earlier lackluster explorations of his prostate came to mind. What would it feel like now that his system no longer lay dormant? He had to know.

Jim’s motions stilled as his brain tried to catch up to Spock’s request. “Really?” he asked dumbly. His cock gave an enthusiastic throb. Spock nodded.

“Okay.” Jim answered breathlessly. Suddenly, his hands were trembling as he fumbled to grab the lube. “How do you want this? Do you want to be on your front or your back? From behind is supposed to be easier penetration, technically, but face to face we can see each other.” he rambled.

“Like this.” Spock answered, hastily shoving a pillow under his hips to cant his ass into the air a bit. Everything was already so perfect. He didn’t want to move, except for that bit of adjustment for practicality. They’d do it again later, he felt certain, in a million other ways. They had the day off. He would find the energy to go again, and again.

“Sure.” Jim agreed quickly. “However you want it.”

Jim stared at the Vulcan before him. Spock was so different like this, so wanton and lustful. It was a far cry from his usual cool, aloof exterior. Carefully, Jim parted Spock’s cheeks, and prodded with one well lubricated finger. He’d done this much before, and he recalled that superior Vulcan muscle control. Unlike with most virgins (or those with little experience), his finger slid in effortlessly as Spock consciously relaxed to accept him. It was incredible. And the small moan of pleasure Spock emitted this time went straight to his dick.

Jim worked Spock open with gentle efficiency. It didn’t take long. One finger became two, scissoring apart, and soon Spock was thrusting lazily beneath him. Jim grasped his own cock near the base to try to regain some control. Seeing Spock _respond_ like this was almost more than he could handle. In all of these months, he’d never thought he’d see it. The coming _pon farr_ was enough to anticipate, but he’d never thought to see _this_.

Jim removed his fingers and hastily slicked his cock, then laid himself down over Spock’s overheated body. It was an awkward position at the best of times, and not ideal for a first time, but it was what Spock had chosen, and Jim was determined to make it perfect. He certainly had enough experience of his own to work with it. With his chest plastered against Spock’s back, and one arm braced for support, he guided his cock into Spock, and sank into the soft welcome heat. Spock sighed as Jim groaned with pleasure, and the two of them sank into one another.

“How does it feel?” Jim prompted. He remembered clearly that Spock hadn’t felt any real pleasure from penetration in the past, and wanted desperately to know whether that had changed.

They hadn’t even begun, and it already felt so much better than it ever had before. The bond flared white hot between them, speaking for Spock when he couldn’t find words. It was good. “ _Jim._ ” he complained breathily. “ _Move_.”

Jim didn’t need any more encouragement than that. It had been all he could do to hold on, to control himself before, careful of Spock. Now he thrust as if he’d been born to it, falling into an easy rhythm. He’d fucked Spock a handful of times, and it had been intimate, but not fulfilling like this. Now Spock was an enthusiastic partner beneath him, moaning and writhing in his pleasure, and for Jim that was intoxicating. He tried to pour all of his frustrations from the past months into this fuck, and all of his love for Spock -- intense and overpowering. Even if he could never have this again, he knew it would be worth it. But for now he _did have this_ , and he wanted to drink it in, commit it to memory in every minute detail. He hoped Spock’s eidetic memory didn’t fail him now, because he wanted to experience this again and again, from Spock’s perspective in a meld.

Spock canted his hips and pressed himself up a bit, pressing _back against Jim,_ and Jim lost it. He gripped Spock’s hips and let loose. He could hear from the tenor of Spock’s moans, feel it in the tremble of his thighs, that neither one of them was far off. Another dozen thrusts, and they were there, coming together, and the incandescence of the bond blinded Jim to the world around him for one long moment.

When he came back to himself, he was panting, and Spock was boneless beneath him again. Spock pulled the pillow from under his hips and tossed it carelessly to the floor, where Jim could see a tell tale wet spot. Well. Maybe Bones was right about his concern for their mattress, if they were already getting started on ruining the pillows.

Jim carefully extracted himself and laid down beside Spock, staring into his eyes in silence for a while as they both regained themselves.

“I think,” Spock said at length, “that we will actually be quite busy today. It is wise that you ordered us a large breakfast.”

Jim buried his face against Spock’s shoulder as he shook with laughter. Spock was like a teenager who’d just figured out what sex was, and in a way, that’s exactly what this was for him. Well. Jim could certainly handle that. What had started as a sick day was shaping up to be an early honeymoon.

 


	45. Spock Tops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems so enthusiastic about this story! :) Thank you! But I have to say, if you'd like to see something even better, a story which inspired me to write more K/S kink, please check out Command by Aelimir: http://archiveofourown.org/works/881464/chapters/1697031

Jim picked at the remains of their colossal breakfast. After their first round of sex, they’d managed to drag themselves to the shower, where Spock had lingered until the hot water had run out. By the time they’d emerged, breakfast had already been delivered to the main room, a mountain of food that they fell upon. And as promised, Spock had worn only his fuzzy robe.

“So.” Jim said, already planning their day. “Do you want to top next?” he asked, and smirked as Spock lost his less than perfect composure just for a second, nearly choking on his tea.

Spock hesitated. “I do not know.” he said, considering. “You will already be subjected to a good deal of penetration once I fall into the _plak tow_. Should we not preserve what health you have as long as possible?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Spock you’re not going to destroy my perfect ass during _pon farr_. I’ll be fine. Don’t you want a chance to bang me while you’re still totally present?” he asked pragmatically.

Well, there was that. The start of Spock’s good mood evaporated as he considered _why_ he might want to fuck Jim now. Before it was too late. So they’d have at least one good memory, in case the rest was... bad. Damaging. Terrifying. Would it help to reassure him if they tried now? Perhaps he could get a sense of what it would be like. Perhaps, if he tried very hard, he could commit the act to memory. Imprint it on his psyche, in the hopes that the good experience would override any animalistic urges when he inevitably lost his mind.

“We... can try.” he said hesitantly. Although his earlier arousal was elusive now. He couldn’t imagine what it was that had caused his cock to evert before. Now it lay quiescent inside of him as usual. Perhaps it was as simple as the massage. Perhaps if Jim would touch his _chenesi_ again, arousal would be inevitable. Then they could reverse roles, and he would set about taking Jim officially. Just like he’d done with the strap-on, but with his own authentic hardon this time.

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” Jim joked. He could guess at least some of what was on Spock’s mind to cause such an abrupt mood shift. Not because of their bond, but because Spock was transparent -- or at least, he was transparent to Jim when it came to this.

Spock set the plates aside hastily and grabbed the tube of lubricant, tossing it onto the bed. He shrugged out of his robe and turned his back to Jim. “If you apply pressure to my _chenesi_ , evidence suggests I will evert and then we may proceed.”

“Spock.” Jim sighed. He crawled up to Spock and pressed his chest against Spock’s back, thighs kneeling up around his hips. He wrapped Spock in a hug and pressed a kiss to his neck. “You aren’t a robot and I’m not asking you to fuck me to get it over with. I want to be with you if you want it. And I’m pretty sure there are other ways to go about turning you on.”

Spock received the kiss awkwardly, wondering if a kiss to the neck alone should be enough to cause him an erection. Sometimes it was enough for Jim. Sometimes Jim became erect for no discernible reason. Even in the midst of his Time, he felt inadequate.

“You’re really over thinking this.” Jim murmured against his skin. “I can feel you thinking, you know.”

“I apologize. My controls --”

“Are perfect. _You’re_ perfect. And if you’re not in the mood right now, you’re not in the mood. We could do something else. Cuddle. Go back to sleep. Watch a video. Play chess. Text Bones awkward questions.”

Spock smirked at the last suggestion, his shoulders finally losing some of their tension. “What do you suggest?” he asked, allowing Jim to choose.

“Well a favourite of mine is to ask him about weird rashes I make up --”

“Jim!” Spock rolled his eyes, amusement flitting through the bond.

Jim grinned. “Oh! I’ve got just the thing to cheer you up. Let me show you this video Rand sent me of a cat on a bicycle.” He snatched up his PADD and began to tap away.

 

~~~

 

If there was one thing that Jim Kirk had had years of practice at, it was turning a movie-watching session into a make-out session, and that was exactly what he did as the morning ticked by. It wasn’t the first time he’d distracted Spock with this well-honed talent, and if Jim had his way it wouldn’t be the last. That was how they found themselves some time later, Jim straddling Spock’s lap, slowly grinding his own hard cock against Spock’s fuzzy robe, the only clothing between them. Tongues and fingers likewise were intertwined.

Beneath him, Jim felt the moisture first, seeping slowly through the fabric of Spock’s robe. That unique, alien genital pouch of Spock’s was always a damp place, and he’d learned these past two days that when Spock became aroused he also became _slick_. Human pre-cum had nothing on the self-lubricating properties of the Vulcan penis. He flushed when he realized just how handy that property would turn out to be, and wondered why Bones and Spock had been so insistent they stock up on lube. As far as he could tell, he’d barely need it.

Spock gave a soft grunt as Jim ground down a little harder. Jim could feel a slight _something_ down there, though by no means was it big enough to constitute Spock’s monster-cock, which Jim had now had a measure of. It was comparable to the notorious Mister Green, which was to say it was considerable.

Jim worked his way down the column of Spock’s neck, rearranging his body as he want, hands dipping into Spock’s robe to part it. He _had_ to see what was down there, and he didn’t want Spock over thinking things and freaking out again. Down Spock’s chest, and over dusky greenish nipples, pebbling from either the cool air or arousal. It was hard to say which. Then down, down the wiry torso, the taut belly, the happy trail. Jim gazed down then at his prize and destination.

It was the first real look Jim had gotten of the Vulcan penis actually _becoming_ erect, and it was fascinating. He watched as it seemed to grow and expand, the chubby flesh pressing outward from the sheathe of Spock’s body, seeming almost to turn inside out. He dipped his tongue in as he’d done before, and tasted the sweet-saltiness of Spock’s natural lubricant.

Above Jim, Spock watched with rapt attention as Jim ducked down to taste him. It was just as heady an experience as it had been the night before. And his cock, which had already been somewhat interested in the proceedings as they’d kissed became fully invested now that Jim’s tongue coaxed it from its sheathe. _This is a blowjob_ , Spock’s mind supplied. He’d gone down on Jim a number of times, and it had been pleasant enough, but _this...._ Spock could finally directly understand the appeal. His eyes closed of their own volition as he was overcome by the sensation of Jim enveloping him in wet heat, a thousand times more arousing than just his tongue had been. And then there was _suction_ , and Jim was struggling valiantly to swallow around him, willing his own gag reflex into submission or ignoring it when he choked.

Spock fought the urge to tangle his fingers in Jim’s hair. He had to _control_. His breathing was erratic, as was the rate of his heart, and he realized that if Jim didn’t slow down this new exploration was going to be over before it had even begun. “Jim.” he said, voice quavering, as he dug his fingers into the sheets.

Jim glanced up, cock still over stretching his mouth, and when he saw Spock trembling and on edge, he pulled off with an obscene _smack_. Jim grinned. “I take it you like it?”

“Perhaps too much.” Spock nodded.

“I don’t mind it you come this way.” Jim said enticingly, reaching his tongue out to lick just a bit at the twin-ridged head of Spock’s cock. “Then again,” he continued, “we could try out you fucking me, like we’d mentioned before. I could ride you.” he threw out casually.

Spock groaned softly at the image of it, wanting it more than anything in that moment. He reached for the lube they’d tossed aside earlier, but Jim had his own ideas. He wrapped two fingers around Spock’s shaft and coated them as thoroughly as he could in the mixture of Spock’s juices and his own spit, dipping them into the moist folds of the pouch where some of the liquid had pooled. “I want to try something.” Jim said, reaching behind himself to prod at his hole.

“Jim.” Spock admonished, though his eyes darkened with lust. “This is foolish.” He tried to cling to the voice of reason. “You could damage yourself.” But he couldn’t bring himself to ask Jim to actually _stop_ what he was doing. Not when Jim’s eyes had slid shut and his mouth dropped open, lax with lust.

“I doubt that.” Jim answered huskily. Spit made for poor lubrication but Spock’s precum had obviously been evolutionarily designed for just this purpose. Well, maybe not _quite_ this purpose, as Jim couldn’t actually conceive, but close enough. He worked a second finger into himself, not caring about the slight burn and stretch of it. He wanted to get on that cock _now_.

Jim shimmied up onto Spock’s lap where he’d been at the start of all this. He was barely prepared enough, and Spock knew it. But before Spock could voice the complaint Jim knew that he would, he shifted his hips to hover above Spock and thrust back, impaling himself with a soft gasp. “ _Fuck_ you’re big.” Jim groaned, fingers clenching on Spock’s shoulders as he scrunched his eyes shut and tried to breathe through the initial penetration.

“Perhaps if you had used real lubricant, and prepared yourself _thoroughly....”_ Spock admonished him. But he didn’t push Jim off. He simply moved his hands to frame Jim’s hips, moving his thumbs in soothing circles while he tried to gain his own equilibrium. Jim already felt impossibly tight around him, and it was even better than his mouth had been.

Jim slowly worked himself down Spock’s cock. It was large and slick, but it felt more like an exciting challenge rather than daunting. With all of the experimentation they’d done those past months, Spock had unwittingly made Jim into a bit of a size queen, and the way Spock was filling him up now was divine.

Jim gave a grunt of satisfaction when he finally bottomed out. He was already sweating, and felt a bit short of breath. As he tried to raise himself, he felt his thighs trembling from exertion, though he’d done next to nothing all morning. But this felt better than any toy they’d used by far, and the fact that it was _Spock_ inside of him overwhelmed all higher level thought. “Spock.” Jim breathed, tightening his grip on Spock’s shoulders as he moved himself slowly up and down. “Fuck me.”

Spock tightened his grip on Jim’s hips and began to aid him in his efforts, his own hips thrusting up to meet Jim as well. Within moments, it was all Jim could do to hold on for dear life. In spite of the awkwardness of their position and the tremendous amount of physical exertion it must be taking on Spock’s part, Spock seemed to effortlessly fuck into him, driven by an instinctive need to claim his mate. He wasn’t even into the _plak tow_ but he could feel a primal stirring in his blood, now that they’d begun.

Spock grunted in frustration and threw Jim backwards onto the bed. Braced on his forearms, robe still draping him, Spock finally had the leverage to properly fuck into Jim. He hiked Jim’s legs up onto his arms, knees braced against his elbows so that he could take him more deeply. Each thrust was a firm _slap,_ obscene in the otherwise silent room, and punctuated only by lustful grunts and sighs.

It wasn’t too long after that before Spock could feel the now familiar rush of an oncoming orgasm. He reached between them to hastily stroke off Jim, and they were coming together. Locked together as they were, Spock felt another first, as the consistent pressure around his cock triggered another Vulcan biological phenomenon: the knot.

“What-- what is that?” Jim asked breathlessly as he felt Spock continue to swell and stretch his hole.

Spock wriggled his hips and felt the knot catch at Jim’s rim, locking them together as the knot of flesh swelled almost beyond Jim’s capacity to handle. “I warned you of this.” Spock answered, his own voice rough as he felt another burst of ejaculate. “The knot ensures a higher chance of conception between mates.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re _knotting_ me?” he asked. A wave of heat took him as that was equal parts born of arousal and concern. Still, it was better to work on stretching himself now so that the next knot wasn’t a total shock to the system, he reasoned. “You do know that you can’t get me pregnant, right?” Jim checked with a cheeky grin.

Spock hummed non-committally and continued to grind into Jim slowly, letting his heavy frame drape across his mate as he rested from his exertions. Perhaps he could not impregnate Jim, but his knot was unconcerned with such trivialities.

As Jim laid there with Spock’s weight crushing him, his ass stretched as wide as one of his more ambitious plugs, he took a moment to catch up with what had just happened. And it was incredible -- all the more so upon reflection. Spock had _actually fucked him_. With his cock, not a toy. It was real, one hundred percent real. He knew it would be fleeting. He knew that _pon farrs_ were few and far between. But he only resolved to treasure it all the more. And make sure every moment was just as memorable for Spock.

Jim wrapped his arms around Spock and simply held him, clenching his ass around Spock as the Vulcan softly moaned. “And you wanted me to consider waiting.” Jim marvelled with a short laugh. “Spock, I don’t care if I never sit again. That was already the best fuck I’ve ever had in my life.”

“I am glad you are enjoying it, _t’hy’la.”_ Spock murmured into his shoulder. “Because I am beginning to suspect today will consist of little else.”

 


	46. Final Countdown

Jim was filthy and exhausted, and he’d already lost track of time. Checking the chronometer now, he was surprised to see another day had passed and it was nearing noon. He needed a shower. Spock needed a shower. And their sheets needed changed for sure. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. If Jim Kirk was grossed out, the situation was dire.

Spock was starfished out on the bed, his mouth open slightly as he slept. It was kind of adorable. Jim thought about waking him up to share a shower, but decided that maybe Spock could use the rest. Although they’d had copious amounts of sex over the last few days, Spock was still mostly lucid and that meant that the main event still hadn’t even begun. Jim shook his head wonderingly. Then he began to roll off the bed to clean himself up.

“ _Ri...”_ Spock muttered, half awake, and reached out a hand to grasp Jim’s wrist in an iron grip.

Spock had reverted to speaking Vulcan a few times now, and it made Jim nervous. Because it might mean he was closer to the _plak tow_. Because he didn’t really know much Vulcan and was afraid Spock would say something important. Because he wasn’t sure how to respond. This, at least, it was clear was a negation. Spock wasn’t happy with him leaving the bed.

“Spock. I need to take a shower. And text Bones to bring the rest of the supplies to our rooms.” Because he wasn’t sure Spock would let him out to get them himself. “And maybe check with Scotty on the ship’s status.”

Spock made a sound that Jim hadn’t even known a Vulcan _could_ make -- something very close to a growl. It was kind of hot, kind of intimidating, and more than a little annoying. “Excuse you?” Jim asked. “Spock, let me tell you. For one, Bones did not deliver that bucket yet, and second of all, I wouldn’t use it if he had. I am going to the bathroom, Mister.”

Spock whined petulantly and tightened his grip slightly, then opened his sad brown eyes to stare at Jim. “ _Ri_.” He reiterated with a forlorn frown.

Jim sighed, uncertain what to do. He grabbed at Spock’s wrist with his free hand and hoped they didn’t just get locked into a wrist-grabbing contest. He tugged, gesturing with his head toward the bathroom. “Come on.” he urged. “You come too. You like showers. Remember cleanliness? Let’s go, Spock. I’ll even wash your hair for you.”

Spock blinked at him owlishly a few times, clearly making some kind of effort. Then at last, Standard came out of his mouth. “I like... the way we smell.” he said haltingly, as if it were a struggle to string the words together coherently. “You smell like me.” he growled again. Or maybe purred? It was very faint, and seemed to come from his chest, and his eyes lit possessively when he said it.

Jim shivered. “Okay. I agree that that is ridiculously hot coming from you, but I also do not want to shit your cum out all over the bed. Or on the floor. Or in a bucket.”

Spock effortlessly manhandled Jim onto his front and pinned him down as Jim gave an undignified squeak. He squeaked even louder and higher when he felt Spock’s tongue penetrate him.

“Jesus Christ, Spock!” he exclaimed scrabbling at the sheets and trying to catch his breath, get his mind to think straight again. It was impossible. “Is that --” he gasped, “Is that even hygienic?” Jim lost all ability to argue with Spock as he felt that alien tongue swipe and delve into his ass. The wet slurping sounds were filthy.

After a few more minutes of work, Spock pulled away, wiping his mouth casually on his arm. “There was not much cum.” he pronounced, and considered the issue closed. “You will not soil yourself.”

“Yet.” Jim scolded him, still trying to recover. His cock had half hardened in interest but he was already getting a bit tired of sex. What was happening to him? Who even was he? “But I am going to soil myself if you keep me in this bed indefinitely.” Jim warned. “Eventually, I’m going to have to use the bathroom, and you’ll recall that scat is on my hard limits list.”

Spock huffed indifferently and rolled his eyes.

“And speaking of bodily necessities,” Jim continued, “I’m starving.” He reached for his communicator. “I’m going to order some lunch. What do you want?”

“I am not hungry.” Spock answered in a flat tone, hugging his pillow to himself. He frowned, discarded the pillow, and snugged himself up to Jim instead.

Jim ignored the octopus attached to him and tried to text Rand. Bless her, he’d have to give her a raise or something after all of this. He made sure to send off a text to Bones, too, requesting all of the rest of the supplies they’d need. Spock was less and less Spock-like by the day, and Jim could feel the appointed hour creeping closer.

Jim looked down at Spock, and considered trying to scan him with his tricorder. Bones liked that kind of thing, but Jim was pretty sure the doctor understood that at some point they’d become too distracted to gather hard data. And besides, Spock didn’t seem to like it. He made do with feeling Spock’s forehead and noting that yes, the fever was still there. He couldn’t help but pet Spock’s bangs back from his face, stroking the silky hair.

Spock nuzzled into the touch, then grasped Jim’s hand to pull his first two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them obscenely.

“Damn.” Jim breathed, already forgetting about all of the goals that had been on his mind. So much for a brief respite. His cock was valiantly struggling to take interest in these proceedings.

Spock glanced at Jim’s cock. Over the past few days, they’d each topped their fair share, not to mention all the blow jobs, hand jobs, and everything in between that had occurred. Spock relinquished Jim’s fingers only to fill his mouth with his cock instead, and though Jim was into it his cock didn’t surge to one hundred percent interest. Maybe ninety percent. He was certainly willing to try.

Instead, Spock huffed a sound of mild frustration, though through the bond Jim could feel mostly an indifference to his little problem. Instead, Spock reached out for one of the numerous bottles of lube within easy reach and he began to prepare Jim’s ass for penetration, as if it were of no consequence to him who was on top at the moment, so long as someone were getting fucked.

It didn’t take much preparation. Jim’s anus was soft and yielding, having been fucked and fingered open numerous times in the past hours. Though, he was rather smug with himself at the fact that it didn’t hurt yet. Didn’t ache, didn’t twinge. If he got through the _pon farr_ without the dermal regenerator, he would throw that little factoid in Bones’ face.

Spock slid up on the bed and into him with a relieved sigh, and Jim couldn’t help but melt under him. He couldn’t be certain if it was the bond, or if Spock had brainwashed him somehow, or if he really was just that greedy of a bottom -- but being fucked again, even in such a short amount of time, was a sort of relief to him too. He relaxed into the bed, feeling Spock’s massive cock filling him, rocking gently into him and soothing that restless urge that had been growing in him. Now, all thoughts of cleaning or eating or checking on work flew right out of his head.

Spock’s hand slid to Jim’s face, and slipped effortlessly into a meld. Now Jim really was unaware of anything in the outside world. There was Spock, and that was all. He floated blissfully in their shared mindspace, the bond flaring bright between them. Now the sharing of thought and feeling seemed effortless, and it didn’t blot out the physical sensations as it sometimes had before. No, he was still aware of Spock moving within him. Aware of hiking his legs to wrap around Spock’s waist. He’d discovered earlier that in this way, not only could Spock achieve deeper penetration but his legs pressed down perfectly atop the _chenesi_ , much to Spock’s pleasure.

Jim was aware when Spock’s motions sped, as he thrust harder, and he was aware in a vague way when they both came. In the meld, their orgasms blended weirdly into a simultaneous experience that made either individual climax pale in comparison.

But what he wasn’t aware of was the buzzing at his door. Rand came into the other room as quickly as humanly possible to deposit the requested food and leave, mortified. Chapel, right behind her, delivered the supplies he’d asked Bones for, lingering just a little longer to try and hear what was going on until Rand yanked her out of the room.

Jim blinked back into reality as Spock pulled out of him with a wet squelch. He felt floaty and content, though his stomach growled after a moment, and he could smell the food from the other room. “Did... someone come in here while....” He flushed in embarrassment. Which of the crew had heard them? Getting caught in a dorm room as a cadet was one thing. He didn’t need the crew to know about this. It was supposed to be kind of hush-hush.

“Yeoman Rand was here.” Spock answered easily. “As well as Nurse Chapel.”

“How do you know that?” Jim asked incredulously.

“I could hear Rand encouraging Chapel to leave toward the end of our activities, not to mention Rand’s distinctive perfume and the general smell of sickbay lingering around Chapel.”

“You can _smell_ them?” Jim asked incredulously. Then again, with Spock talking about how much he liked the smell of himself on Jim lately, perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. “And how come you could hear them during the meld and I couldn’t?” he pouted.

“Practice, _t’hy’la_. You lack discipline.” Spock rolled onto Jim again and began pressing kisses along his jaw.

“I lack discipline? You’re the one in _pon farr_.” Jim retorted, trying to wriggle away. “Are you going to let me eat some of that?”

“I prefer you on the bed.” Spock murmured against him, making no moves to relinquish his hold.

“I prefer food in my belly.”

Spock groped blindly toward the bedside table until he felt a ration bar, then pushed it into Jim’s hands as he continued his kisses. Down Jim’s neck, over his shoulder, inching slowly toward a nipple.

Jim wriggled away quickly, catching Spock just enough by surprise that he managed to free himself from the bed, rushing toward the entrance room as Spock let out a sound of displeasure. Jim could hear Spock grumble something in Vulcan after him, and chose to ignore it for the sake of both their sanities.

Jim carefully balanced a tray packed with food in one hand, and a plastic bucket full of medical supplies in the other as he came back to the bed. The bond was flickering already with flashes of despondency from Spock, even though he’d been gone all of thirty seconds. “I’m back, I’m back.” Jim reassured, setting the bucket on the floor, tray on the night stand, and shimmying back onto the mattress. Spock grappled him again as waves of relief echoed between them.

Jim pet Spock’s hair, as soothingly as he could manage, but he knew he had to take advantage of the brief reprieve to actually eat. He propped himself up against the headboard as best he could with Spock adhered to his side and tried to take in a sandwich as quickly as possible. It wasn’t quite _eating_ , because he hardly chewed and barely tasted what he ate, but at least it smelled better than a ration bar.

“Hey.” Jim nudged Spock a bit, talking with his mouth full. “You want some soup? Look, Rand put some of your favourite soup on the tray. I think it’s _plomeek_.”

“ _Ri._ ” Spock was back to speaking Vulcan again. Fantastic. And, Jim noted, Spock was hard again as well, grinding against his thigh.

“I’m pretty sure neither of us have eaten since yesterday.” Jim prodded gently. “Are you sure --”

Spock lunged up and seized the offending bowl of soup, hurling it against the wall with a loud clatter. “ _Ri!”_

Jim’s heart skipped a beat, his flesh breaking out in goosebumps. That was possibly the most violent he’d seen Spock in person since that fateful day on the bridge when he’d provoked him. This time, he’d done nothing. Jim set the rest of his own sandwich aside, wiping both crumbs and sweat off his palms and onto the sheets as he watched Spock with wide eyes. It was... disconcerting, to see him like this. And definitely not the norm.

“Hey, Spock.” Jim spoke quietly, as if to a skittish animal. He wondered which of the two of them were really the nervous animal here. “You okay, buddy?”

Spock pulled Jim to him with a raw desperation, covering him with his body, wrapping limbs around any part he could reach, as if afraid Jim would leave him. Jim could feel that the anger had evaporated as quickly as it had come, to be replaced with a sort of panic, or anxious energy. Spock’s skin was on fire, and what had started as more kisses to neck and jaw had begun to include a hint of teeth.

“It’s okay.” Jim murmured, rubbing his hands along whatever part of Spock he could reach, arms pinned at his sides as they were. “It’s okay, Spock. You still with me?”

Dear god, it was happening, he realized. This was it. Spock was no longer at home, and the _plak tow_ had arrived. Jim wriggled his hips as much as he could, opening his thighs for Spock to slot between more easily. He was damn grateful that they’d had sex less than twenty minutes ago. It wouldn’t damage him when Spock thrust that monster cock--

Okay, and there it was. Jim stared at the ceiling as Spock began thrusting into him mindlessly, unable to budge an inch as Spock pinned him down. His own cock gave a small twitch of interest, but really he’d just come _again_ and he wasn’t so much in the mood. This was hardly their most romantic coupling.

Well, Spock had said the _pon farr_ was an ordeal, he reminded himself. So he settled in and tried to hold on for dear life.

 


	47. Plak Tow

Jim reminded himself again that after the fisting, his ass had returned to normal. Now, however, he felt Spock’s knot pressing him open for the millionth time as they spooned together on the bed. He felt loose and squelchy, and he was grateful that they’d put down the rubber sheet before the _plak tow_ had hit. The bed was damp and sticky. _He_ was damp and sticky, and his thighs were starting to develop a sort of crust from dried ejaculate. They chafed, but he couldn’t be bothered to dig around the general bed-area to look for the wet wipes again. He’d given that up hours ago. Or maybe days?

He’d lost track of time, and had given up asking the computer for it. After the first voice-response, Spock had become distraught like a threatened animal, and he hadn’t bothered to ask again. In deference to Spock’s sensitive eyes, the lights were dimmed low to a constant twilight, and the heat was cranked up well past Jim’s comfort zone, but at least Spock wasn’t shivering any more.

Jim could feel Spock shifting around behind him, gently rocking within him. His eyes fluttered closed. Even now, it still felt good. Over-sensitive, too loose, with an over-used sort of ache... but there was still that blossom of pleasure as Spock touched him in all the right ways. He felt his cock give a feeble twitch, and he wondered whether he’d recovered enough to have another orgasm yet. Or perhaps he’d just ride that wave of low pleasure, or slip into Spock’s own orgasm through the bond. Or maybe he’d have another painful, dry orgasm, fucked out of him with a Vulcan’s determination and stamina. He’d had more than his fair share of those in the past hours or days as well.

Jim blinked hazily in the dim light, letting himself drift into the fog of pleasure-pain and groaning at the stimulation. So good. Too much. God, he was tired. And hungry. Thirsty. He could see the ration bars and water bottles, scattered around. He’d have to feed himself soon, but not yet. He still had time to float. The bucket was the least of his concerns now. He’d crossed that bridge ages ago, and it seemed wholly insignificant.

In a detached sort of way, Jim considered that these past months he’d been training for this. The over-large plugs and toys stretched him enough to handle this cock, this knot. The post orgasm torture they’d played with paled against the demands of _pon farr_. He wondered how the next _pon farr_ might go, in another three to four human years. Would he be better prepared, having survived this one?

Jim groaned again as Spock ground into him particularly hard, and felt his body contract with a feeble orgasm. A thin trickle of ejaculate spurt from his half-hard cock and onto the sheets, adding another layer of slick. He hardly noticed the addition of it. It was too hot in the room for the wet to chill into a cold spot, so he just laid in the mess and his own sweat indifferently.

Finally, Spock sighed and slumped, and Jim felt the knot and cock slipping out of his over-stretched hole. He reached behind himself and fingered his hole with two fingers, pulling them to his face to inspect the contents in a detached way. Checking for blood. He’d never have thought he’d find himself in this situation but was grateful for Bones’ lectures. He wasn’t certain he’d be able to tell if he were injured any longer. The light was too dim for this sort of thing, but he squinted and was fairly certain all was clear. Just the milky white of cum and lube.

Spock caught up his hand and sucked his ejaculate off the fingers mindlessly and Jim shuddered. It was hot and disgusting in equal measure, and he really hoped Spock didn’t get sick from doing that.

Jim waited for Spock to drift off before he dared to use the bucket beside the bed. The smell barely even registered to him any more. Really, he mostly smelled the overpowering scent of sex. He’d learned early on not to try and leave the bed when Spock was totally awake. The responses had ranged from possessive growls to blind panic to anger to heart-wrenching despondency. It was safer to slip off the bed by a few feet in the small breaks directly after Spock had finished another round, while he drifted and recovered some measure of strength.

Jim used the bucket, swiped the wet wipes over himself a few times, and grabbed another bottle of water and handful of ration bars, then hopped back on the bed before Spock could notice. There, he propped himself up against the headboard enough to eat and drink. The food wasn’t satisfying, but he didn’t need to be satisfied with his meal. He’d had to eat purely to survive before, and he could do it again. He wasn’t even hungry so much as he recognized a certain low energy level within himself that signified it was time to eat. In some situations, he remembered, one could substitute food in lieu of sleep for a time as well. He certainly hadn’t been sleeping much of late.

A few times he’d even managed to drift off _during_ sex, a new record for him, though not one he was inclined to brag about. He was just _tired_ , and kind of incredulous that Spock had the energy to keep going.

Jim tossed the trash from his meal onto the floor, adding to the mess. He hadn’t seen pillows or sheets in some time either, though he was sure they were down there somewhere. He wondered whether he could inflict this on a yeoman or not, though he had no idea how he’d get the place clean himself.

Beside him, Spock had blinked awake and was staring at him again. He did that a lot, though Jim couldn’t read any clear thoughts coming through the bond. Spock murmured something in Vulcan, and Jim smiled a bit at him. “You know I don’t have any idea what you’re saying, right?” he asked softly. Spock just blinked again, then tugged him a bit.

Jim willingly moved down on the bed to curl up against Spock as Spock latched onto him again, seeking out a near constant physical reassurance. Behind him, Jim groped for a tube of lube, not picky about what brand he managed to come up with any more. He awkwardly slicked his fingers one-handed and prodded at his slack hole to jam some more lubricant in it for good measure. Spock would probably be ready for another round in a few minutes, and he didn’t bother wasting time with lube or prep.

Jim wondered how Amanda, Spock’s mother, had dealt with this. Was it always like this for Vulcans in their Time? Bones had said that they could vary wildly. Perhaps next time would be easier. Or perhaps Amanda had been a badass. Had she had a bucket? Had Sarek shipped in crates of lube to their home on Vulcan? He’d certainly never ask, of course, so he’d probably never know. But it would have been nice to know one other human who’d been through the ordeal. In some ways, he hadn’t been prepared at all. In others, it wasn’t really that bad.

Spock touched Jim’s face and sighed contentedly as he established a light meld, bringing their minds just a fraction closer together. Jim sighed happily at the sensation too. Spock’s presence was warm, and welcoming, and full of love. Jim rolled onto his back as Spock laid atop him. He was too tired to wrap his legs around Spock’s back, though he knew from experience doing so would result in a quicker and more intense orgasm for Spock. Instead, he simply laid limply as Spock maneuvered Jim’s legs onto his shoulders, thrusting in deeply once again.

Jim moaned. He was getting sore, but it was good, always good. He didn’t even care that this time he stayed entirely limp. This one was about Spock’s pleasure, and all he had to do to help him was be there. Jim stared up at Spock lovingly, willing to give anything Spock wanted to take.

 

~~~

 

Spock blinked at his mate. Bondmate. He. He had a certain Jim-ness about him that had been absent. This was not simply _mate_ , this was Jim, Spock remembered. Jim. He blinked around the room, familiar but lacking a certain context. His back hurt. The _chenesi_ , he recalled. He moved his arm around behind his back to touch one. Not as swollen as he remembered distantly. His memory was patchy, and he didn’t have a sense of what time it was, or how much time had passed. It was... disorienting, and uncharacteristic of him.

Jim was lying on the bed beside him, on his stomach, head turned to the side and drooling onto the sheets. Spock smiled a bit at the familiar, endearing sight, though his smile slipped when he processed the state of the sheets. He cringed a bit, knowing he had done that. It was objectively disgusting, yet even now a part of him felt thrilled at it. The scent of sex was heavy, thick in the air, and he _liked_ it. It smelled of _them_. Though his conscious brain was also starting to interject some small amount of sanity. He knew they’d have to clean it. Soon. Not now.

His cock was half hard, and he thought he might like to have Jim again soon. But not now. On some level, he thought that was different. A change. The last... while... came to him in blurry patches. He remembered mating, and mating. Again and again, endlessly, though he didn’t recall it with his usual eidetic accuracy. He frowned in worry, though Jim seemed okay.

Spock tried to sit up and his whole body protested. Every muscle ached from over-exertion. Still, he crouched over Jim, and dipped a finger along Jim’s crack. Checking. Prodding. He winced at how wet and open Jim remained, even now. How often had he taken him to leave him in this state?

Jim felt a familiar prodding and made a soft sound, widening his legs automatically for penetration. Spock froze as he took in the now instinctive reaction. His cock hardened further at the sight of it. Willing mate. Open. Ready. A part of him cringed but the rest of him fell forward, slipping back into Jim’s ass with a contented groan. His sore muscles were almost forgotten as he rocked into Jim, mindlessly seeking his release.

Spock sought out Jim’s mind through the bond, sensing his presence and willingness. His submission, his love, his giving spirit. But he could also sense he was bone tired, and only vaguely aroused. Spock came with a sigh, his knot forming almost painfully. Everything felt pulled too tight and overworked. He felt a bit guilty at how Jim barely even twitched at the increased girth of the knot. He groaned as he came, the insistent edge of his need fading and his thinking clearing again by increments.

“Jim.” he said slowly, the words feeling foreign in his mouth.

Jim stirred beneath him. “What’s up, hon?” he murmured. Sometimes Spock said things and it didn’t mean anything at all.

Spock ground down into Jim as another wave of ejaculation hit him. He groaned through it and slumped again, catching his breath, his senses. He mentally scrabbled for that thread of coherence he’d found earlier. He knew it was important.

“I--” he began, but stopped, not sure where he’d been going with that.

Jim blinked into greater awareness. “You with me, Spock?” he asked with a bit of surprise, a surge of excitement and hope shooting through him. Not that he _disliked_ the _pon farr_. But if it was over, or soon over, that was significant. An important shift.

“I... yes.” Spock answered hesitantly.

“That’s great.” Jim smiled. “That’s great, Spock. How are you feeling?” he mumbled into the mattress.

Spock thrust again, another wave of ejaculation hitting him. His skin heated with arousal and shame. “I... apologize.”

Jim laughed, his whole body shaking with it. “Spock, seriously? There’s no reason to apologize.”

“You are not even aroused.” Spock pointed out.

“You’re usually not aroused when we have sex.” Jim pointed out. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”

Spock settled down at that, allowing his body to just do as it needed and drifting in contentment at Jim’s easy acceptance.

“So is it over, then?” Jim asked after a moment of silence. “We’ll need to tell Bones, you know. And do something about the room....” Not to mention showering. Eating real food. Leaving the mattress after so long seemed daunting, especially with so much to tackle, when he was exhausted.

“Soon.” Spock murmured against his back. He wrapped his arms around Jim as best he could, pulling them onto their sides to spoon so he could hug him better. “Not yet. But soon.”

 


	48. Aftermath

They’d gone another two rounds in the bed, sleeping or talking in between. Spock let Jim off the bed long enough to use the toilet instead of the bucket. He let Jim eat two ration bars in peace, and even had two bites of one himself before claiming he wasn’t yet ready for food. Now, they’d finally staggered into a hot shower. They were dead on their feet and sore all over for different but related reasons, and both of them were absolutely filthy. Most of the scrubbing was done to their own bodies for efficiency’s sake, though that didn’t stop Spock from getting an erection. Again.

Spock’s breathing was becoming difficult, and he was losing focus of what he was trying to accomplish. He stood under the spray of water, staring blankly at the wall as he struggled for control.

“Hey.” Jim intruded into his thoughts, touching his arm lightly. “You want me to take care of that?” he asked, nodding down to the obvious problem.

“I apologize.” Spock answered. This really was embarrassing. He was pretty sure the _pon farr_ was officially over, but he knew that these last few bouts would have to clear up on their own, until the hormones were totally out of his system.

Jim reached down with a tired but fond smile, and grasped Spock’s cock in a loose grasp. “Will a hand job work?” he asked.

Spock’s knees nearly buckled at how good it felt on his overworked flesh. “I-- yes. Yes, I believe so.” he answered shakily.

By the time they were finished, the water had gone cold, but at least Spock was a bit more clear-headed again and Jim was pretty sure they’d gotten _most_ of the crud off of them. He’d certainly spent an inordinate amount of time on himself, at least, and for once Spock didn’t try to consume anything he swiped out of himself with careful fingers.

They shuffled back into the bedroom and both sighed at the mess. Spock winced subtly and Jim cringed, not certain where to begin. “Is it like this for Vulcan couples?” Jim asked.

“I do not know.” Spock answered. “The Time is not usually discussed openly. Also, I believe there used to be discrete cleaning services for hire. Traditionally, of course, the entire event would have taken place in a secluded cave in the mountains.”

“Abandoning the mess in a cave has its appeal.” Jim acknowledged. “And I can’t imagine feeling much more sore from the rocks.” He grinned. “What do you think, Spock -- find a remote location in four years for the next round?”

Spock gave him a bland look that did not necessitate a verbal response. Then he began gathering discarded water bottles and food wrappers. Jim grimaced and set his shoulders, and headed to the bucket.

It took about twenty minutes to get the room liveable again -- a surprisingly short amount of time, considering. New sheets for the bed, the temperature turned down and lights turned up, and the air filtration systems kicked into high gear. The trash was disposed of and tubes of lube or spare food gathered into neat piles out of the way. That much had nearly exhausted them.

“I don’t know if I’m more tired or hungry.” Jim confessed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You should eat.” Spock urged him. “You have not eaten a proper meal in....” He looked around, bewildered.

Jim grabbed a nearby PADD and checked the date. “Five days.” he said, handing it to Spock to see the date. “I’ll be all right though, for a while. I had the ration bars. We should probably tell Bones the fever’s over so he can come scan you.”

“Yes.” Spock nodded reluctantly, making no move to do so. “And we should check the ship’s status.”

Jim was poking around at his PADD. “Ahead of you there.” he answered, calling up the most recent reports. “It looks like all’s been quiet and steady, by some miracle. I was half convinced we’d resurface to war with the Klingons or something.”

“Highly improbable.” Spock smiled gently.

“Murphey’s Law.” Jim countered stubbornly. “I’m going to text Bones.” he decided. “And I’m asking him to bring food. No way I’m sending Rand in with this place smelling stronger than a Risan pleasure den.”

“Should I light some incense?” Spock offered.

Jim wrinkled his nose. “Honestly? That might make it worse. You might want to put on pants, though.”

“Yes.” Spock agreed, forcing himself to stand again and rifle through Jim’s drawers for anything soft and comfortable. It was telling that he didn’t bother with anything other than the pants. He wasn’t going to be seen in public, so it hardly mattered. He was too exhausted to really care.

Jim watched Spock shuffle around. He looked absolutely wrecked, and he knew that he looked no better from the brief glimpse he’d caught of himself in the mirror. Tired, yes. But also over-sexed. There was no other way to describe it. He had that distinct but imprecise look about him that screamed of sex. There was no exact way of describing it, but he could spot as well as anyone else if someone had just been fucked. It was in the heat of his eyes and the muss of his hair, the set of his shoulders and sway of his hips. He’d tried to find ways of hiding it since he’d been a teen, and knew it to be totally impossible.

“Hey. You’re okay, right?” Jim asked as he watched Spock settle into an office chair he’d dragged in.

Spock sat in the uncomfortable plastic with his eyes closed, his bare back pressed against the cold material. The bed might be preferable, but he’d had enough of the bed. “I am... adequate.” he answered. It was hard to say how he felt about all of it. It was too early to tell. His memories were patchy and that unsettled him. What he _did_ recall of it also unsettled him. It was so outside of his norm. Though it hadn’t been bad, and Jim had not been damaged, he reminded himself. Jim was well, and the crisis was over. In a few days, things would be as they’d been before. It hardly seemed believable.

“It was good, Spock.” Jim told him seriously. It was important for Spock to know. It hadn’t gone poorly. No one had been hurt. It had been _intense_ , yes. And not always pretty. But it wasn’t anything bad. Nothing to be feared for next time, nothing to be guilty about now.

Spock squinted uncomfortably. He heard Jim’s words, and he felt the truth of them through the bond. And yet... “I was like... an animal.” he said with a shiver of distaste.

“Yeah, you were.” Jim grinned. He reached out to pull Spock off his chair and back to the bed. Where he could touch him, cuddle him, reassure them both. “Rawr.” he gave his best enticing sort of growl. “You know, most humans would probably take that as a compliment of sorts -- being an animal in bed.”

“Jim.” Spock rolled his eyes fondly. He wanted to chastise Jim for not taking him seriously, for twisting his words around. But he did feel somewhat better for the teasing.

The door chimed, interrupting both their trains of thought, and McCoy let himself in with medical override before either of them could answer it. He strode into the bedroom like he owned the place. “Good god.” he grumbled. “It smells like a brothel in here.”

“Hey Bones.” Jim offered.

“Put some damned pants on.” McCoy griped. “Actually, belay that order. Bend over and let me see your ass.”

“I always knew you were into me.” Jim quipped. “Although some might construe this as sexual harassment.”

“You haven’t seen harassment.” McCoy threatened, snapping on a glove and digging a fresh tube of lube out of the kit he’d brought along. He wasn’t about to touch anything in the room if he could help it until it had been sterilized. Actually, that was a pretty good policy when it came to Jim’s room in general, he decided.

“Kinky.” Jim shot back, but bent over the bed somewhat awkwardly with his ass toward the doctor. There was some uncomfortable prodding, a lot of humming and hawing, and a tricorder involved, but finally Bones ended the ordeal and Jim was free to actually put on some pants. He was quick to do so. Now Bones had ruined his fun time and made it weird.

“You seem well enough.” McCoy told him as he dressed, already turning his scanner on Spock.

“I could have told you that.” Jim shot back. “And by the way, I didn’t use the dermal regenerator. You owe me a bottle of scotch.”

“I never made a damned bet with you.” McCoy shot back. “And what about that bucket?” Jim frowned and McCoy smirked knowingly.

“Did you even bring me food?” Jim changed the subject.

“Other room.” McCoy nodded, and Jim was into the other room in a heartbeat, already stuffing his face from the tray Bones had assembled him. For a man who was usually on about his diet, Bones really had gone all out this time, Jim thought. The proportions were massive and covered every food group, including sugar and fat. He walked back into the room with half a roll in his mouth and the heavily laden tray in his hands, just in time to see Spock putting on a shirt. After the _chenesi_ examination, he too was feeling a bit vulnerable. The doctor often had that effect.

“Two more days of bed rest.” McCoy pronounced.

“Doctor, I assure you --” Spock began stiffly, ready to argue he could resume duty even though he thought it was a terrible idea he do so.

“You can assure me all you want when your body isn’t still pumped full of hormones. You both need rest and recuperation. And you’ll probably have a few more flare ups before the end of it.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Spock answered, trying to sit up straight. His spine didn’t have the same rigidity as usual, and it galled him. It was difficult to properly death glare when he was ready to pass out from exhaustion.

“So we’re good?” Jim confirmed once more. “We got through it. It’s over.”

“You’re good.” McCoy answered more warmly. “You two managed to get through this like you do everything else. Now, get some real food in you, and try to fix your sleep schedule before you’re back on duty.”

“Will do. Thanks, Bones.” Jim said, watching his friend leave with a dismissive grunt.

“Well, Spock.” Jim turned to his Vulcan. “You going to help me eat all of this, or are you still not hungry?” He shovelled a forkful of some sort of stir fry into his mouth.

“You eat.” Spock told him, already burrowing into the fresh sheets, even without any usable pillows. “Perhaps I will be hungry by the time I wake.” He was fading fast. And before Jim could even make some other clever retort, Spock was asleep -- the first real sleep he’d had in five days.

Jim smiled, looking down at him. He was almost tired enough to join him, but not quite yet. First food. Then, they would sleep.


	49. Meditation

Between the change in status forms sent to Headquarters due to the bonding, the battery of tests Bones put them both through to declare them fit for duty due to the mind mumbo-jumbo, and the suspiciously long amount of time the two of them had been missing in action (plus the rumours spread by Rand and Chapel), by the time Jim and Spock emerged from their rooms the entire crew had decided they’d basically gotten married and gone on honeymoon. Everyone was quick to offer their good wishes, and so they were gracious in accepting them, but it was definitely awkward, with the truth hanging between them. _Pon farr_ was still a closely kept secret among Vulcans, so for both Spock’s own privacy and out of respect for his people, they weren’t about to divulge what had really gone on. Only Bones really knew, and Uhura had some vague inkling that it had been Spock’s mating season, but he’d never gotten around to actually explaining the ins and outs of it to her, so she too was largely in the dark.

“Congrats.” Uhura told Jim with a smirk as they filled their trays with lunch. “I guess you had a busy vacation.” she said.

Jim knew she was just teasing. He _knew_ she knew it was the one time every seven Vulcan years that Spock could actually get an erection. And yeah, the joke was slightly in poor taste, but it wasn’t that big a deal, either. But inwardly he cringed. She had no idea that Spock was still slightly traumatized by the whole thing and refusing to talk about it, spending every night in silent meditation. Jim could only imagine what it must be like for him. Puberty had been bad enough for Jim -- what must it be like for the whole event to happen at once, and then shut back off again over the course of two weeks?

“Yeah, busy.” he answered with a half-hearted smirk of his own. Let Uhura read into it whatever she wanted.

It was their third day back on duty, nearly a week past the _pon farr_ , and he and Spock were still both finding their equilibrium. Even after their mandatory two days of bed rest, they had spent most of their free time at rest. Jim had tried to talk to and reassure Spock, but Spock wanted to meditate so Jim was willing to give him his space. Sexually, there hadn’t been anything at all, though Jim’s ass thanked him and his dick seemed grateful for the reprieve, for now. Mostly, he’d set about catching up on ship’s business, eating his weight in food, and making up for a week of lost sleep.

When Jim got back to his table with Spock, he was pleased to see that Spock, at least, had avoided awkward conversation. Chekov had saved him from any personal discussion with some sort of science talk. Through the bond, he could feel the tension draining from Spock to be replaced with a sort of mild curiosity. He felt his own tension draining sympathetically. If Spock was happy, he was happy. Maybe they were finally finding their feet again.

 

~~~

 

“Hey Spock, do you want to --” Jim started when Spock came through the door that evening.

“I wish to spend my evening in meditation.” Spock answered formally, as he always did.

Jim rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even hear what I wanted to say.”

Spock stopped where he stood and turned his gaze to Jim, with full Vulcan intensity. “I apologize. What did you wish to discuss?”

Jim shrugged with a small smile. “I don’t know now. You threw me off. Can I meditate with you?”

Spock hesitated, his eyebrows knitting with a small frown. Jim had never asked to meditate with him before. “I... suppose.” he answered hesitantly. Internally, he had kissed his meditation goodbye. There was no way he’d be able to actually focus with someone as attention deficit as Jim sitting beside him, attempting to learn for the first time. “Would you like to do it in here? Or in my quarters?”

“Let’s go to your room.” Jim said, hopping off the bed. “You already have all your stuff there. Do I need to wear anything more comfortable?” he asked. He was still in his uniform pants, though he’d removed his boots and his outer shirt, leaving just the t-shirt underneath.

“That should be sufficient.” Spock answered, leading the way.

Jim watched with interest as Spock settled onto the bare floor of his quarters, gesturing for Jim to take the woven mat. He arranged himself on it, knees jutting out awkwardly. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, though Spock made it seem easy. And while Jim was grateful that Spock had offered him the comfort of the mat, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. As Jim shifted restlessly, Spock lit a small flickering candle on his altar, and a stick of incense. Jim’s nose itched at the smell of it.

“The object of the first stage of meditation is simply to quiet one’s thoughts.” Spock explained. “The flame can offer a focal point to rest your eyes. Even this early stage of meditation requires considerable practice.”

“So... I just stare at the candle?” Jim clarified.

“And quiet your mind, yes.”

“Right.” Jim answered, staring at it as Spock settled into his own posture silently. “Is that what you’re going to be doing, too?” he interrupted after a moment.

“I will be utilizing more advanced meditative techniques.” Spock answered, quelling his irritation. One could not exactly quiet one’s thoughts if someone kept interrupting, seeking out attention.

“Right, okay.” Jim answered, shifting his focus off of Spock to look at the candle again. His back hurt, his knees hurt, his nose itched. His body was screaming at him to shift around but he knew it would only irritate Spock and that he was unlikely to get comfortable on the hard floor at any rate. He did his best to ignore the demands of his body and look at the damned candle. Spock was always in here doing this, and if Spock was going to shirk him to meditate these days then Jim was sure as hell going to learn this and share it with him. Besides, they had the bond now to consider. He wanted to learn _something_ about it, but Spock had explained to him before that there was little he could do without a basis in meditation first.

Hours, days, millennia ticked by. Jim’s mind flew in a hundred directions, and he thought that this was it. This was the single hardest thing he’d ever done. Staring at a candle, quietly. Who could have guessed? And Spock had once told him he’d been coached in meditation starting at age four. Jim was torn between a sort of horror at the idea of subjecting a kid to this, and wondering whether this was something like trying to learn a new language as an adult. Maybe he’d passed some critical age for taking in the information. The worst part was that he didn’t have any idea what Spock _meant_ by quieting his mind. Didn’t know what it looked like, or how to do it, or whether he was anywhere close to succeeding.

Jim glanced around a bit frantically, wondering how long they’d been there. But Spock’s room was barren as usual, and there was nothing in his line of sight that had the time. He looked to the candle but he didn’t know the rate of melt for it. It could have been ten minutes or a month for all he knew. Jim looked to Spock, who sat serenely on the floor. Perfect posture, legs folded, shoulders relaxed, and hands on knees. His eyes were open but they were staring down at the floor or something, half closed and unseeing. Clearly Spock was concentrating on something far away from here.

He sighed internally. He wasn’t going to ruin Spock’s meditation time by asking questions or fidgeting. He’d said he wanted to learn, and he’d meant it. What sort of poor discipline would Spock think he had if he couldn’t even sit and look at a candle for a while? Jim bit his lip and looked back at the flame instead of his bondmate, and focused inwardly for a moment, seeking out that hint of their bond in the back of his mind. It was more muted these days, since Spock had regained control of his psyche, but it was still there in a vague sort of way. He tried to get a read on what Spock was feeling, but whatever it was was too subtle to come through, or Jim was too unskilled to tell, or maybe Spock was keeping that information to himself.

Jim sat quietly, and decided to take the time to do some thinking, if nothing else. He wondered what was going on with Spock lately. What exactly were his thoughts regarding the _pon farr_? How long would it take him to process what he’d gone through? And when would things get back to normal?

True, he hadn’t really wanted sex either for those first few days, but it had been a week and Jim had a high libido. While he was still letting his ass have a bit of recovery time, a handjob wouldn’t go amiss. And while aroused Spock was incredible, clear-thinking Spock was even better. He wanted his Vulcan back.

“Hey Spock.” Jim nudged Spock’s knee, completely forgetting the promise he’d made to himself to let Spock meditate in peace.

“Yes, Jim?” Spock had enough control now to keep the sigh to himself.

“Let’s go get naked and do something in my room instead.”

“I... prefer to meditate at this time.” Spock said uncomfortably.

Jim frowned. “You never prefer to meditate when I’m naked.” he said. “Are you still recovering from _pon farr_?” he asked. He didn’t mean physically, because Spock wouldn’t be aroused for their next sexual encounter, obviously. But if Spock needed to work something out emotionally, he _would_ wait on him.

“In a manner of speaking.” Spock answered enigmatically. He had a lot of feelings about what had happened, and he was finding it rather difficult to sort them all out. And now that he’d experienced full arousal, he also knew exactly what Jim was missing out on. What he’d be forced to do without, for the next several _years_. Jim had loved what Spock could give during his Time, but Spock only had patchy memories of most of it, which was disconcerting in and of itself. But the good memories, mostly from that first week, before the _plak tow_... they were _very_ good memories. Which meant that Jim might not be content with what he had now that he’d had a taste of what could be. How could Spock have ever even asked him to make the sacrifice to begin with?

Jim narrowed his eyes at the evasion. “Fine. If you’re not having sex, I’m not having sex.” he declared, crossing his arms.

“Jim.” Spock chastised, his tone implying that Jim was being ridiculous.

“Solidarity, Spock!” Jim declared. “We’ll get out the cage again.”

“That is unnecessary.” Spock began to reason with him. Of course, he’d have to find a way to take care of his bondmate again. Avoiding the situation would only cause Jim frustration.

“Of course it’s necessary. If you don’t want it, I don’t want it. I’ll wear that until your next _pon farr_ , you know.” Jim threatened. “I could do it.”

“You can barely tolerate a week of chastity.” Spock answered, a hint of exasperated smile reaching his eyes.

“Nonsense.” Jim answered stubbornly. “It’s been five days since your _pon farr_ already.”

“We had sex four times during our recuperation.” Spock pointed out. It had taken a bit of time for the last of his body chemistry to shift. “It’s been three days since we’ve had sex and you’re still recovering from the absurd amount of it you endured last week.”

“Fine.” Jim conceded. “But I’ll have you know I didn’t _endure_ anything.”

“Jim. Are you trying to tell me that you are recovered and require sexual attention?”

“You’re damn right I am.” Jim pointed his finger for emphasis. “And you, Mister, are thinking too much. I’m not sure how or about what, but I know that face.”

“What face?” Spock asked, totally blank-faced.

“That one. That Vulcan face.”

“I am Vulcan.” Spock pointed out.

“You’re shifty.” Jim countered. “That’s what you look like when you’re trying to avoid talking about what’s bothering you.”

“It is also what I look like when nothing is bothering me. I am fairly certain this is just my face. You are being ridiculous.”

“ _You’re_ being ridiculous.” Jim countered, knowing full well that his retort was so juvenile Spock wouldn’t have a response. Point to Jim.

Spock visibly drew a deep breath and breathed out his frustration. “What would you like for us to do, Jim?” he asked. He’d let Jim pick the sexual activity. Jim had certainly let Spock be the selfish one often enough over the last to weeks to last him years.

“I want you to take me apart and put me back together.” Jim told him.

“Jim --” Spock began to complain. That was a vague answer.

“Spock. I want you to touch me however you want to touch me. Tie me up or hold me down or fuck me with that strap-on of yours in spite of my sore ass or keep me on edge for hours or make me come as many times as I can or sound me or spank me. We both know you’re a genius, and that that creativity doesn’t stop when it comes to the bedroom. I’m not going to pretend I know everything that’s going on with you right know, but I know you have some sort of complex about what happened. I can’t reassure you any more than I already have that it was good. But if you’re afraid of disappointing me, you _can’t_. Not unless you keep pulling away. I want my Vulcan back.” The last was said with such a sad voice and a forlorn look that Spock felt his heart breaking a little.

“ _T’hy’la_.” he said gently, reaching out to run his fingers through Jim’s hair. Jim leaned into the touch. “Are you certain that I will not be a... disappointment, now?” he asked hesitantly.

“Maybe a little if you keep meditating every evening instead of hanging out with me.” Jim offered a small smile. “But seriously, is that what all of this is about? That now that I’ve had a taste of your dick, I’ll never be the same?” Jim grinned. “I mean, it was pretty good, but I’ve had your _arm_ up my ass. I’d say you had me at hello, but I think you mentioned fisting first....”

“Are you chronically incapable of remaining serious, or is this a conscious decision on your part?” Spock sassed.

“Bit of both.” Jim admitted. “But you’re not answering my question.” he pressed. “This whole avoidance in the guise of meditating thing. Is it because you think I won’t want to be with you or something? Because Spock, forgive me for saying so, but that’s really stupid.”

Spock shifted uncomfortably, feeling sheepish at Jim’s blunt proclamation. “That is one element. Another facet is that I, myself, feel some disappointment, while another part of me is glad to have that part of myself gone. There is discomfort in the fact that I cannot remember the event fully. Discomfort with what I do recall. I was not myself....”

“You were.” Jim assured him. “Maybe not your normal self. A more emotional, less logical self, but still Spock. I liked it, but if it’s any consolation, I like you a bit better when you are how you normally are.” he smiled warmly. “And by the way? I remember most of it. You haven’t asked to see what I saw, you know.” he nudged Spock fondly. “But you can view the memory of it any time you want.”

Spock hesitated. He’d told himself before the _pon farr_ that he would want to see Jim’s memory  afterward. It would help him maintain a certain objectivity about the event, and would reassure him of his mate’s actual, lived experience. And it would help to fill in some gaps in his own recollection. He knew this, and he’d been coached on this when he’d had his brief talk on the realities of _pon farr_ when he was fourteen. But now... now he felt a certain caution about sharing such a meld. He was afraid of what he might find. Not only the reality of how Jim might feel (but wouldn’t necessarily tell him), but Spock was afraid to see himself in such a manner, and with such clarity. Seeing himself stripped bare of logic was anathema to all he’d trained to become. Of course, avoiding the truth of reality, _c’thia,_ was illogical as well.

“You would share this with me? Now?” he asked.

“Of course.” Jim tilted his head subtly, as if to make it more available and open to the meld. “Always.”

Spock reached out his hand tentatively and placed his fingers on Jim’s meldpoints. It was effortless to slide into Jim now, and effortless as well to find the memories he sought. This bond was still so new, and he’d hardly had the time to appreciate it, but he took that time now. It was unbelievable, in a way. Since T’Pring had severed their bond and he’d left for Starfleet those years ago, Spock had wondered whether he’d ever have the chance to have something like this. A healthy bond with a willing mate. A love match on top of that. He was lucky, and Jim was perfect.

It was different for Jim than it had been for Spock. When they’d mated during the _plak tow_ , Spock had felt animalistic, driven but unthinking. He felt slight shame at Jim’s initial lack of physical response. The last thing he’d wanted was to force himself upon an unwilling partner. But no -- the truth was before him here. Memory couldn’t lie -- Jim had been willing. And Jim had been honest with him when he’d tried to reassure him before. There were parts of their time together that were good, beyond good. With Jim nearly incoherent with pleasure, a dry orgasm wracking his frame as Spock fucked into him yet again. Even now with his hormones lying dormant, he felt a phantom arousal at such a vision.

Spock broke the meld, knowing what he wanted to do next. He wanted to see Jim looking like that, without needing a hard cock to achieve it. It was a challenge, but one he was excited to try and meet.

Jim looked back at him, flushing hotly, because he’d followed that vision, and caught Spock’s conclusion before he’d broken the meld. Jim swallowed thickly. That had certainly been one of the more intense moments of the _pon farr_.... And Spock wanted to put him there again, with those nimble hands and his imagination.

“I believe you said something about moving this to the bed.” Spock said quietly.

“Yeah.” Jim answered, his own voice rough. Screw recovery time. He’d just gotten married, and a honeymoon was a month long.

 


	50. Epilogue

Jim panted with exertion from where he hung, in the honest-to-god sex sling Spock had purchased and installed in his own quarters where no crewmen was likely to ever find it. The sling made this position perfect. He had nothing to support, nothing to hold on to. The contraption of straps just perfectly cradled him as Spock plunged wrist-deep into his ass again, inching his forearm by increments.

Jim groaned, his head thrown back as sweat dripped down his body. His thighs trembled but he didn’t need to worry about them. He was spread wide open and held effortlessly. God this was good, better than good. They should have had one of these the first time around. “Sp--” he mumbled, unable to even form Spock’s name any longer in his near delirium.

Spock flexed his fingers just so, stroking Jim’s prostate from the inside and marvelling at how silky he felt. How warm, and soft, and _stretched_. This wouldn’t be an every day affair, but it had seemed fitting after the _pon farr_ to begin again where it had all started. With toys and plugs and a climb toward this. Spock’s cock and his knot were far from both their minds when something so transcendent was happening now.

“Shh.” Spock soothed Jim, still rocking his arm in and out, plunging a little deeper on each thrust as Jim came apart before him. Beautifully. “I have you, _t’hy’la_. Just let go.”

Jim made a high, broken sound, though his face was contorted with pleasure. Then his cock, only half hard from the overwhelming sensations, began to ooze cum like a slow fountain. It would always be bizarre to him when Spock could fuck it out of him like this. But with a careful _press, press_ against his prostate, more cum issued forth as Jim’s mind whited out entirely, too far gone to contemplate the physiology of it.

It was tempting for Spock to remain within Jim a little longer. He could sense that even though Jim’s orgasm was finished, the sensations of Spock rocking his arm within his body were still pleasant. And Spock got his own little thrill at the feel of it as well on his sensitive fingers. But he knew that Jim’s blood sugar would be dropping soon. That as much as they both might enjoy this all night long, it had to come to an end and certain necessities had to be tended to. He carefully extracted himself, letting Jim continue to drift on his high. With glassy, uncomprehending eyes staring at him and that new, lovely leather collar, Jim looked the perfect picture of a submissive. And right now, Spock had to play the role of the perfect Dominant.

A stack of wet wipes were at hand and he cleaned first himself, then set about wiping Jim clean of the bulk of the mess. The sling he’d see to later, as well as the leather paddle and the vibrating egg they’d used before they’d worked up to the fisting.

Carefully, Spock freed Jim of the straps of the sling. His strength was always an advantage in this as Jim slumped bonelessly into Spock’s waiting arms. He left his room for now and moved them back into Jim’s quarters and more familiar territory. Their bed had been prepared ahead of time as well.

Jim slumped into a soft, warm nest and let Spock arrange the blankets around him. He smiled and snuggled, too tired to pull Spock down with him and grateful when Spock instinctively joined him. The bond was perfect for communicating little desires like that. He didn’t even have to try and form coherent sentences. He could just drift a little longer, let his mind remain fuzzy. He was aware of Spock urging him to take sips of some fruit juice. Then a square of chocolate was eased into his mouth for him to suck on. Everything was perfect.

Jim closed his eyes, the taste of chocolate on his tongue, as he sighed and rested against Spock’s warm, strong body. Spock’s hand came up to card through his hair the way he liked, though he also felt those fingers stroke over his meld points a few times. It was fine. Spock had blanket permission to dip in and out of his mind whenever he liked, though Jim had learned it wasn’t exactly proper etiquette on Vulcan. Well, he wasn’t Vulcan, so he figured it was okay. And besides, he knew right now Spock was mostly just checking on him, and reassuring himself as well. The scene had been intense.

Spock pressed another bit of chocolate into his mouth before Jim realized the other one had gone. He accepted it with a hum.

“We’ll rest a few more minutes.” Spock told him. “Then I want to see if you can stand for me, so that we can take a shower and get a bit cleaner. And a bit warmer.” Spock rubbed Jim’s arms from outside the blanket.

“Love you.” Jim mumbled, words coming to him a little more easily now. He said the most important ones first.

“I love you as well.” Spock answered quietly. After a few more moments of silence, Spock urged Jim into slow action. “Come. Shower.” he nudged gently.

“You said a few more minutes.” Jim slurred, drifting into a half sleep.

“It has been a few more minutes.” Spock answered with an amused smile as he got Jim to his feet and shuffling toward the shower. Jim was virtually useless in this state, but Spock didn’t mind. He set aside the leather collar and did all of the work in cleaning them both, as Jim became a bit more aware under the hot spray.

“How do you feel?” Spock checked, though he could tell most of it from their bond without even trying.

“Good.” Jim answered. “Like I’ve reached a whole new level of relaxation. Which is impressive considering we have that whole diplomatic thing starting tomorrow.”

“Which is why we scened tonight.” Spock reminded him. While they’d been working up to the larger anal plugs for some time now with this eventuality in mind, they’d chosen tonight for their scene because Jim had been like a tightly wound spring with all of his tension. Now Jim certainly was relaxed, and still floating in a pleasant haze. Spock let him soak in just a bit more hot water before shutting it off and setting about getting them both dry.

Teeth were brushed, the toilet used, and soon enough Jim was settling back in the blankets, his favourite place to be after an intense scene. It was warm and soft, and only missing Spock. “Come to bed.” he urged as Spock dimmed the lights.

“Soon.” Spock promised. “Try to rest. I still must clean the toys we used. I’ll join you shortly.”

Jim huffed and frowned a bit but he knew that Spock would be as efficient as ever. He felt himself yawning and beginning to drift even as he determined to wait up on Spock. It was probably a losing battle.

It didn’t take long for Spock to clean and put away everything they’d used. He lingered on the toybox for just a moment though, to pull out one item. He took out the cock cage to set beside Jim’s morning uniform. It would certainly make their time planetside more interesting. He smiled, his mind already filling with ideas of things to try. Possibly more than he could even manage before his next _pon farr_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who sent me encouragement throughout my time writing this! It started as a sort of mental exercise for me, and turned into a really lovely story if I do say so myself. I hope it serves to inspire other people to make even better works. :) I had a really fun time with it, but I do think it’s time to end it here so that I can explore a bunch of other stories I’ve been meaning to write. The End!


End file.
